


Glory

by Guildmaster (MaritheFangirl)



Series: The Skyrim Saga [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Companions, F/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 30,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaritheFangirl/pseuds/Guildmaster
Summary: Sorri LaRoriane is a Breton woman who traveled to Skyrim to seek her fortune. But when she finds herself low on gold, she has to look for other places for work. Lucky for her, the legendary warriors of Jorrvaskr, the Companions, are taking new members. She may not be an great warrior, but she's willing to work and prove herself so that some day she might be.





	1. Chapter 1

22nd of Frostfall, 4E 201

“There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!  
And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!  
But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shield maiden Matilda who said...  
Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead! Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!  
And so then came the clashing and slashing of steel, as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal!  
And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more... when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!”

The bawdy voice of the bard travelled though the tavern, and the Nords stood up and cheered when the song was done. The smell of mead and smoke were heavy, but it wasn’t unpleasant necessarily.  
Sorri LaRoriane tossed a few heavy logs onto the fire, and brushed her hands down on her apron. Then she headed behind the counter of the Bannered Mare with a broom and cloth, and began to clean. She swept up a few crumbs that dotted the floor, and wiped each table as more customers began piling in as the night progressed.  
“Sorri, love…” Hulda, the barkeeper called, “D’you mind wiping down some clean mugs? We’re running short.”  
“Yes ma’am,” she said quickly, and went to carry out the task.  
She had been working at the Bannered Mare for nearly two weeks now. She had been intending the travel more, but she was low on funds. Some damned thief had stolen most of her gold, and hadn’t even been arrested after. All the guards in Riften were corrupt, that was for sure. And she was not eager to return to that vile place.  
Sorri let out a sigh, and wiped her forehead, accidently getting grease from the cleaning clothing. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, and went to go clean up.  
In the back, there was a small washbasin that she could splash herself with water with. She rubbed the back of her neck with a wet cloth as well, the tavern stuffy from the people and the fire. It was bitterly cold outside, so everyone was seeking shelter.  
She wasn’t used to the cold nights of Skyrim. It got cold in Daggerfall to be sure, but nothing like how it was in the mountains of Skyrim.  
Sorri let out another sigh as she took a glance at her coin purse. Even after all that time, she had barely scrapped together enough live daily. She was paying Hulda for rent, and food. Plus, she had needed a few other supplies for the road. Potions, new weapons, armor…it was dangerous to be wandering when there was a war going on. But Whiterun seemed safe enough.  
It was a bad time for Skyrim in general. Dragons roamed the skies, soldiers at every turn, the Emperor assassinated…Skyrim had seen better days.  
But Sorri had heard tales, tales of adventure, of wandering the beautiful landscapes that the northern province had to offer. Each city, each hold, unique. Perhaps the Nords could use a lesson in architecture, she thought with a snort, but their land was beautiful beyond comparisons.  
She heard a crash and a yell as a table was knocked over in the tavern. She ran outside, and groaned at the damage. Some idiot had just gotten into a fight with the bard, and everyone had jumped up and cheered. Drinks were spilled, food flung everywhere, furniture knocked aside.  
Sorri let out a final sigh as the bard was knocked cold. Blood wasn’t easy to get out of the carpets.

 

Hours later, she leaned on her broom, her eyes tired and weary. Her hair dishevelled, and body aching. Most of the patrons had either gone home, or gone to sleep. Sorri ran her fingers through her hair, and took a seat at the bar stool.  
“Rough night?” asked a voice beside her.  
She turned around, in her bleary-eyed state, she didn’t see the yellow-haired Nord sitting beside her.  
“You could say that.” She said with a pitiful laugh.  
The Nord slid a bottle of mead at her, “Here, on me.”  
“No, no I couldn’t.” Sorri said quickly.  
“Please, I know what it’s like.” He said.  
Sorri offered him a grateful smile, and uncorked the mead bottle and took a drink. It was more bitter than she was expecting, and her face scrunched up accordingly.  
The Nord laughed, “Aye, you used to sweeter drinks? We used to have a little meadery up the ways. Honningbrew, they called it. Sweetest honey you could ever imagine. Then the owner got himself jailed for trying to poison the captain of the guard, and Black-Briar meadery stepped in. Now, their mead is good, don’t get me wrong, but not as sweet. Some business with their bees-never been the same ever since.”  
“Things usually that eventful?” asked Sorri with a laugh.  
The Nord grinned, “Only when new people are in town.”  
Sorri took a second sip, figuring it to be better than the first.  
“Jon Battle-Born,” he said, holding out a hand, “Well met.”  
“Sorri LaRoriane. Same here.” She said, taking it.  
“So, what’s a Breton like yourself doing in Whiterun? We rarely see your kind this far east.” Jon asked.  
Sorri smiled, “Well, I hadn’t intended to stay for so long. I had plans on travelling, but I’m short on gold. I needed work, and Hulda was offering.”  
She nodded to the barkeeper, who was working on one of the broken tables, hammer in hand.  
“Travelling? Where to?” he asked.  
Sorri shrugged, “Anywhere. Everywhere. Skyrim is beautiful, and I want to see as much of it as I can. There’s so much history, it’s inspiring. The songs and stories I could write…”  
“Ah, so you’re a bard then!” cried Jon happily.  
Sorri blushed, “No, not formally. I’ve never had the training. But I can play the flute rather well, and pa always said I had a nice singing voice. Never got the hand of the lute though.”  
Jon raised his flagon, “Skyrim could use more like you. Swords and fighting are good, but we need songs and poetry too. There’s more to life. As an aspiring bard myself, I understand that. You thinking of applying for the Bard’s college?”  
She shook her head, “No. Breton music and Skyrim songs are a lot different. I don’t think I’m quite suited for Nordic styles of music, if you take my meaning. Besides…I don’t think college is for me.”  
He nodded, and took a drink. “And the Mare? How much longer do you think you need to stay here for?”  
She sighed, and drank some more mead. It was tasting much better now, but she never thought she would get used to Nordic mead. A good wine was all she needed.  
“A long time. Longer than I intended. Some days I fear I won’t even have enough to pay rent. I-I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She turned sheepishly to look at him, “I guess I didn’t realize how expensive adventuring was.”  
He barked a laugh, “Well, if it’s work you need, I heard the Companions are taking in new members. And they pay bloody well. As long as you don’t mind testing your steel in battle.”  
“The Companions?” asked Sorri, “You mean, the legendary warriors of Jorrvaskr?”  
“Aye, that’d be them.” Jon told her, “And far as I hear, they’re recruiting. Now, it takes a special sort of someone to join up, but if you’ve got the mettle then I’d say take the shot.”  
“You really think so?” Sorri asked.  
Jon shrugged, “Why not? Here in Skyrim, you’ll find there no more honourable way to go than a sword in hand. Fighting until the bitter end.”  
Jon got to his feet, and took a last swig of his drink, “Nice meeting you Sorri.”  
“You too, Jon. And…thank you. For the drink, and the advice.” She told him.  
“Don’t mention it, I’ll see you around.” The Nord said and he left the tavern.  
Sorri sunk back into her chair, and took another long drink. She was still exhausted, and quickly found her way up to her rented room, not even having the energy to take off her clothes before she passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke up the next morning with a headache and a sore back. She crawled out of bed, her clothes and hair is disarray. Dragging herself to the washbasin, she cleaned herself up best she could. Finally, she changed into a pair of clean clothes.   
The cotton dress was like nothing she would’ve worn in High Rock, but the added padding kept her warm the harsh climates. She pulled on a pair of boots, and a cowl to wrap around her shoulders as she headed downstairs.   
Paying Hulda for some warm, buttered bread and goat cheese, she ate breakfast in the tavern. The damage from the previous night had been cleaned up and things were running normally again.  
She stretched and got to her feet, clearing her plate out of habit. Then, she decided to go for a walk around the city for some fresh air.  
Whiterun was beautiful. There was no denying it. A small sapling grew from the remnants of the old tree that used to grow before the Temple to Kynareth. The streets full of homes and families. She stopped to browse the market stalls. The jewelry up for sale was exquisite, but Sorri already had a necklace.  
A delicate silver necklace with an amethyst set in the center. Her mother had bought it for her on her sixteenth name day, only a year before she died. Sorri had many wonderful memories of her mother, but the necklace was a physical reminder of her. She missed her dearly, and sadness overcame her as thoughts flooded her mind. She turned away to see the other stalls.  
The other stalls had fresh produce and salted meats. Sorri would’ve loved nothing better than to buy, but her emptying purse somehow weighed heavy against her side.   
She began wandering the rest of the city. Many children were playing in the streets, tag and hide and seek…it was fun to watch as they raced past her. Sorri climbed the steps up to the Wind District, and strolled along. A Shrine to Talos stood strikingly above it all. Sorri was mildly impressed with this act of rebellion of the Jarl’s. Not removing the shrine even with the deity being the subject of controversy…perhaps the Jarl’s favoured side in the war was easy to guess than they thought.  
The Nords seemed to appreciate the statue though. Many came to pray at the shrine, or just listen to the Priest talk.   
Up above, watching over the city, was the Cloud District. The only thing present in the highest city district was the Jarl’s palace, Dragonsreach. She had never been up there many times, only to see the city from a view point.   
Sorri took a seat beside the small sapling. She had heard of the tree’s history from the Priestess when she had first arrived. The Gildergreen Tree, a part of the ancient Eldergleam, which was a sacred to followers of Kynareth. The Gildergreen was struck by lightning early in the year, and had withered and died. A hero had taken up the task to restore the tree, and brought back a sapling from the Eldergleam itself.   
Snow had covered the ground around it, and it wouldn’t be until the next spring that the sapling would truly have a chance to grow. It was a clear day, the sky blue instead of it’s usual grey. No snow fell from the sky, only a cold wind blowing by. Sorri had heard talk that Skyrim was gearing up for one of it’s coldest winters in history.   
Her gaze lowered from the sky above, to steps leading in front of her…an old building. Made from the hull of a ship, and built on legends and stories, of ancient Nord heroes. While no scholar, Sorri knew enough about the legends of the Companions, and their mead hall-Jorrvaskr.   
Rising to her feet, she could feel her heart beat quicken as she climbed the steps. Could she really be a Companion? Nervously, she pushed open the doors to the mead hall, letting the wind blow in.  
As she stepped inside, she was almost overwhelmed. The hall was full of warriors. A long table sat in the center, by a blazing fire pit. Food and drink lined the tables, and chairs were scattered around. Weapons lined the walls, each with its own story. The red and golden banners of the Companions fell from the roof, and warmth from the fire spread to every part of the room.  
There was also an odd scent to the place-the smell of hounds. Did the Companions keep war dogs as pets?   
Suddenly, Sorri heard a cry echo from the left side of the room. Two Companions had begun to fight bare fisted. A female Nord, and a male Dunmer, each fighting with skill. The rest of the Companions circled around to watch, yelling advice and jeers at the two.   
Sorri closed the door behind her cautiously, and crept her way into the hall. It seemed like no one had noticed her yet. The two warriors continued to brawl, and she was sorely reminded of the tavern brawls that would break out in the Bannered Mare. She thought for a split second about stepping in, but by the reactions of the others, this seemed to be a normal occurrence. A source of entertainment even. Eventually, the Nord beat the Dunmer into submission, and the crowd dispersed.   
Sorri looked around, feeling significantly out of place.  
“Are you lost, dear?” asked a kindly old voice.  
An old lady holding a broom stood beside her, her eyes full of concern.   
“Oh,” Sorri said, jumping a little at the sudden appearance, “Um, well actually I was looking into joining the Companions?”  
“Ah, you’ll want to speak with one of them then, dear. I’m just a servant. Ria!” called the old lady, gesturing for a younger woman to join them.  
The young Imperial woman walked up beside them, “Yes Tilma? What do you need?” she glanced at Sorri, “And who’s this?”  
“She’s a possible recruit to the Companions.” Tilma told her.  
Ria smiled brightly, “You’re thinking of joining up?” she asked.  
Sorri nodded apprehensively, “Yeah, who’s in charge around here? Should I talk to them?”  
“The Circle are the ones who parcel out the jobs. That's Aela, Skjor, and the brothers, Farkas and Vilkas. Kodlak advises them, but he doesn't really give orders. But new recruits talk to Kodlak. C’mon, I’ll take you to him.” Ria told her cheerfully. “I’m Ria by the way, who’re you?”  
“Sorri LaRoriane, well met.” She replied.  
Ria took her past into the hall, and down a flight of stairs to the basement.   
“Why did you join up with the Companions?” Sorri asked, curiously.  
Ria beamed, “Are you kidding? I've wanted to be with them since I was a little girl. Haven't you heard the stories of Kodlak and Skjor fighting off the hundred-and-one Orc berserkers? Skjor says it was more like forty, but he's just being modest. Where else would I want to be but here? Learning with them, fighting at their sides…Blood is spilled and our blades sing to the glories of Ysgramor. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.”  
They were in the private quarters, and Sorri could see bedrooms lining the long hallway.  
“Kodlak’s room is right at the end,” Ria told her, pointing, “He’ll see if you’re worthy to be a Companion or not. Good luck! It’ll nice not being the newest one here.”   
Sorri smiled, and nervously made her way towards the open door. She could see two figures sitting in a study.  
“But I still hear the call of the blood.” Said one.  
“We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome.” Replied the other.  
“You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily.” The first said.  
“Leave that to me.”  
Sorri shyly stepped up to the doorframe, feeling as though she was interrupting an important conversation.  
The two figures were now easy to discern. One, an old man with a withered look about him. The other, younger and strong. Both Nords by the look of it.   
“What is it, child? Come closer, what is it that you need?” asked the old man, his voice deep and rumbling.  
“I seek to join the Companions.” Sorri told him as she stepped into the study.  
“Do you now? Here, let me have a look at you. Hm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit.” His eyes studied her, and Sorri felt a wave of self-consciousness. “What do they call you, girl?”  
“Sorri LaRoriane, sir.” She responded.   
There was no mistaking it, this was Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions.   
“Master, you're not truly considering accepting her?” asked the man beside him incredulously.   
“I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts.” Kodlak responded calmly.  
“Apologies.” He said quickly, “But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider.”  
He looked over Sorri with the same scrutiny.   
But Kodlak just smiled wearily, “Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart.”  
“And their arm.” Shot back the Companion.  
“Of course. How are you in a battle, girl?” asked Kodlak.  
Sorri blushed, “I still have much to learn.” She only knew the basics, hardly comparable to these warriors.  
But Kodlak just shook his head and said kindly, “That's the spirit. Vilkas, here, will get started on that."  
“I will?” asked Vilkas.  
“You will.” Kodlak told him, “Take her out to the yard and see what she can do.”  
Vilkas nodded, with no further arguments.  
“Follow me.” He said, and Sorri went obediently after him.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, you’re supposed to train me?” asked Sorri, falling in step beside him.  
“Out in the yard, yes.” Vilkas said, tight-lipped, “Not every milk-drinker who comes crawling in here gets to be a Companion. I’ll see if you’re strong enough. Not everyone is meant to be a Companion.”  
“What does it mean to be a Companion, then?” Sorri inquired.  
Vilkas looked at her from the corner of his eye, “There's been a group called the Companions for over 4000 years. It's been many different things in that time. A conquering army. Ruthless mercenaries. A band of drunken louts. And the esteemed company you see before you. But there's always been a kind of honor to it. We don't deal in politics or underhanded sneaking. We try to uphold the legacy of Ysgramor. To bear his good name such that it never be forgotten, and always be spoken with reverence.” He explained.   
As they walked, she couldn’t help but notice he kept looking agitatedly at around her collarbone. She snuck her own glances there, to see if she had a stain on her clothes, but there was nothing but her silver necklace.   
He pushed open the door the yard outside, and the two walked out together. There were a few tables full of more food set underneath a canopy. A couple of training dummies and archery targets scattered around the place.  
“The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it.” Vilkas told her, “Have a weapon ready?”  
Sorri shrugged her sleeve, and a tiny iron dagger fell into her palm. She kept one there for protection. “I have this,” she said, holding it up for inspection.  
Vilkas closed his eyes for a brief moment and grimaced. “We have a few weapons lying around that you can use. Try the war axe, it’s probably the easiest to use.”  
Sorri nodded, and picked up the iron war axe he mentioned. The leather grip felt off in her hands, and she tried the balance. It was a bit awkward, and not made of the same steel the Companions used. She knew a bit about smithing, and this was a cheap weapon.  
But it was better than the dagger, she supposed. She held the war axe in a defensive stance and Vilkas readied his own weapon-a massive Great Sword about as big as she was.  
“Ready?” he asked.  
She nodded, and took a deep breath in.  
Behind them, a few Companions had made their way outside, no doubt wanting to see Vilkas thrash the recruit.  
Vilkas waited for her to attack first, but she held in her defensive stance. They circled around each other, neither daring to move out of place. Finally, she saw something in Vilkas’ eye change, and she knew what was going to happen before it did. He lunged, too impatient for the newbie to strike. She moved back, out of the swing. The great sword was long, but heavy and unwieldy. She parried off with the axe, sending sparks flying in the air.  
He pushed her back, but she stood her ground best she could. When he lunged again, she side-stepped and hit his exposed flank. He swung the Great Sword in a move that would’ve killed her in a real fight, but she threw herself down to the ground where it couldn’t reach her.  
“Hmph, not bad.” Vilkas commented, “But, now you’re on the ground where are you going to go?”  
“I could roll out of the way.” She suggested, and offered a demonstration.  
“Perhaps, if you were fast and skilled enough. But nothing’s stopping me from just killing you now.” He told her, and poked the ground beside her face with his sword, “There. Dead.”  
“I could block your blade with my axe,” she said quickly, and held the war axe in the position.  
Vilkas just shook his head, and offered her a hand up, “No, the amount of strength you would need to stop a downward blow like that isn’t something you could do. Your best bet in that situation it to yes, catch the blade, but then let go and try to get to your feet.”  
She took the hand, and dusted herself off, “But then I wouldn’t have my weapon.”  
“No, but you’d be alive. And that’s why you carry a spare.” Vilkas told her. “Or, if you’re fighting alongside someone, they can distract the enemy for long enough for you to recover. That move showed quick thinking, but there’s a lot more you need to learn.”  
“Well, it’s a good thing I have such a good trainer then.” She told him.  
For the first time since she met him, Vilkas offered a hint of a smile. “Alright, you just might make it. But for now, you’re still just a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you.”  
She nodded quickly.  
Vilkas held out his sword, “Take this. Go head up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it’s probably worth more than you are.”  
She took it, and her knees buckled under the weight. But she didn’t drop it. Then, she made her way up to where Vilkas directed. Looking over Jorrvaskr was the Skyforge. The ancient forge that predated Skyrim and the Companions.  
The stairs were steep, and Sorri struggled up them with the sword. When she reached the top, she stared in awe. The Skyforge was a thing of beautiful, like the Gods themselves crafted it.  
The Blacksmith who was working on it raised his head at her approach.  
“What brings you here?” he asked, watching her struggle over.  
“I have this for you, Vilkas asked for it to be sharpened.” Sorri explained, carefully resting the sword on the work bench.  
“Ah, you must be a newcomer then, huh?” Eorlund asked.  
“Does Vilkas send all the new bloods on maid errands?” Sorri asked.  
Eorlund smiled, “Oh, don't worry too much about it. They were all whelps once. They just might not like to talk about it. And don't always just do what you're told. Nobody rules anybody in the Companions.”  
“How does that work? Don’t they need a leader?” she asked, confused.  
“Well, I'm not sure how they've managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he's a sort of advisor for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman, her own.” He explained.  
“Are you a Companion?” she asked.  
He shook his head, “Not actually a Companion myself, but none of them know how to work a forge properly, and I'm honored to serve them. My name is Eorlund Gray-Mane. I work the Skyforge. Best steel in all of Skyrim. All of Tamriel.”  
“The Skyforge is…amazing.” She said, running her hands alongside it, “I couldn’t even imagine having your job.”  
“The Skyforge? Aye, my clan-fathers have worked it since the first Gray-Manes came to Whiterun. Skyforge Steel is all the Companions will use, for good reason. You a smith, girl?”  
“I know the basics,” she admitted, “I’m no stranger to the workings of a forge.”  
Eorlund smiled, “Perhaps one day I’ll show you a little of what I know. For now, however I have a favour to ask of you.”  
“What do you need?” she asked.  
“I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me.” He told her.  
Sorri considered for a moment making a quip about taking advantage of her because she was new, as Vilkas had done, but decided against it.   
“No problem,” she told him, taking the shield. And wishing she knew who Aela was.  
“Thank you,” he said, and settled back down to his work.  
Slinging the shield on her arm, she headed back down the Jorrvaskr.


	4. Chapter 4

Once Sorri was back inside, she headed down to the Living Quarters after searching the dining hall for Aela. When she asked Tilma, the maid, she had suggested looking for the warrior in her private quarters downstairs.  
The living quarters was lit by many flickering candles, giving the place a warm glow. Soft carpet covered the floors, and as she walked, Sorri thought she could hear voices.  
She turned a corner, and saw an open door. She walked towards it, and saw two Nords staring at each other. Sorri cleared her throat, and the woman turned.  
She was older than Sorri by many years, but that didn’t make her any less beautiful. Dark red hair, and clever eyes. There was something about the way she moved too-a trained killer perhaps. But there was something behind those eyes-something…feral.   
The man was greying, but strong still. He held himself like a soldier, and was covered in scars.  
Sorri felt very green and inexperienced standing next to them.  
“Are you Aela?” she asked the woman.  
“Indeed I am. What is it you need?” she said.  
Sorri delicately showed the shield to her, “I’m to give you this, from Eorlund.”  
“Ah, good. I’ve been waiting for this.” She took the shield, and looked back up at the Breton, “Are you new here?”  
Sorri smiled, and nodded enthusiastically.   
“I told you, this is the whelp Vilkas mentioned.” Interjected the man.  
“Ah, yes, Skjor. I heard you gave him quite the thrashing.” Aela praised.  
Sorri felt heat rise in her cheeks.  
Skjor laughed, “Don’t let Vilkas catch you saying that.”  
Aela looked Sorri up and down, “Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?”  
“Oh, well…” Sorri wrung her hands together, “I’m not one for boasting. There still much I have to learn.”  
"Ah, a woman who lets her actions speak for her. I knew there was something I liked about you." Aela said.  
Then the woman gave her a smile that could only be described as wolfish.   
“Here, let's have Farkas show you where you'll be resting your head.” She continued.   
“Farkas!” Skjor barked.  
She could hear the sound of someone running, and then a man appeared at the doorway. He had long, dark hair, and stubble. He was built like a warrior, and had a striking resemblance to Vilkas. Vilkas was leaner, and had shorter hair.  
Sorri seemed to recall Ria telling her that the two were brothers.  
“Did you call me?” Farkas’ voice was remarkably soft for such an intimidating figure.  
“Of course we did, ice brain.” Aela said, with a teasing tone of voice.  
“Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep." Skjor ordered.  
“New blood?” his eyes turned to Sorri, “Oh, hello. I’m Farkas. Come on, follow me.”  
With once glance back at Aela and Skjor, she followed Farkas down the hall.  
Sorri was a good foot shorter than Farkas, and struggled to keep pace with him.   
Farkas looked at her while they walked, “Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they’re good people. They challenge us to be our best.”  
He studied her for a moment, “Nice to see a new face around here. It gets boring sometimes.”  
“I’m glad to be here,” she said with a bright grin, “This place is incredible.”  
“I hope we keep you. This can be a rough life.” Farkas told her.  
Before she had a chance to respond, they had almost reached their destination.  
“The quarters are up here. Just pick a bed and fall in it when you’re tired. Tilma will keep the place clean. She always has."  
They stopped at the doorway, and she turned to face him. When he smiled, he was much less an imposing figure.   
“Alright, so here you are. Looks like the others are eager to meet ya. Come to me or Aela if you're looking for work. Once you’ve made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor and Vilkas might have things for you to do. Good luck. Welcome to the Companions.”  
“Thank you, Farkas.” She said, meeting his eyes.  
Before he left, he stopped himself “By the way, if you’re looking for something to do, we’ve gotten word of a contract recently. Nothing but a bunch of lowly bandits. Cowards, who will take little effort. But watch yourself.” He handed her the contract with the location on it, and she nodded.  
She watched as he went back upstairs, and entered her sleeping quarters. A few rows of beds were thrown against walls, with a few personal ornaments from the other companion members.  
Ria was sitting on her bed; a blond Nord was searching around for something. The Dunmer that had lost the brawl was working on healing himself.  
She walked in cautiously, and placed down her sack full of things at the end of the bed. Ria looked up at her.  
“Oh hey, glad to see you made it in! I was the newest member for the longest time, but now I’ll get to show you the ropes.” She said with a smile.  
“Ah, so you are new around here. Good.” Said the Nord, “I didn’t recognize you, and I was afraid my memory was going. It’s been slipping in my old age.”  
“It’s not your age that’s the problem,” snarked the Dunmer, “If it’s anything, it’s the contents of that bottle.”  
The Nord grabbed the said bottle, and tipped it over. Nothing came out, “What used to be the contents of that bottle, you mean.” He corrected with a grin, “Looks like I’ll just have to grab another one. Now, what was I-oh yes, the new blood. Yes, welcome to the companions. I’m Torvar, and that over there is Athis.”  
Athis the Dunmer grunted, but Sorri wasn’t sure if it was from pain, or as a greeting.  
“Why’d you join the Companions?” Sorri asked Torvar.  
He grinned, showing bad teeth, “A man of my station has many debts. I'm not much use at labor or learning, but I can throw a punch with the best of 'em.” He looked at Athis, “Or the worse of ‘em.”  
“Oh, piss off.” He snarled, and Torvar grinned.  
“Being a Companion means when I have troubles, I always have someone on my side. We have Shield-Siblings to keep our backs as dangerous as our fronts. I think. Well, it’s good enough for me, anyway.” He stumbled out of the door, clutching the empty bottle, and whistling a tune.  
Almost as soon as he left, someone else came in. The woman who had won the brawl. She strutted in, fists still bloodied. Sorri expected tension between her and Athis, but there was none.  
“The hell are you?” she demanded when she saw Sorri.  
“Oh, uh...I’m new. I’m Sorri. Sorri LaRo-“  
“Yeah, I don’t care.” The woman gave her a scrutinizing look, “What, they letting in any milk drinker who stumbles their way in these days? Ha!”  
“Njada…” Ria protested.  
“Stay out of this, Imperial.” Njada warned.  
She looked at Sorri and sniffed, “You’ll be dead within the week, calling it now. Anyone want to place a bet?”  
“Yeah I’ll take that.” Piped up Athis.  
Njada snickered, and took of her helmet to shake out her hair.   
“I know I’m unseasoned,” Sorri said, rising to her feet, “But I want to learn. Isn’t that how every warrior starts out?”  
Njada snorted, “Just because you've been accepted here so quickly, don't think I'm going to help you rise any faster. Fight well, don't be a lout, and you'll be fine. You don't need my help.”  
She slammed the helmet back on her head, and left the room.  
Sorri slouched back down on the bed, feeling much less excited about her new life.  
“Oh, don’t mind her.” Ria consoled, “She’s like that with all the new members. Once you get to know her, she’ll be better. Njada might have a hard shell, but on the inside-”  
“She’s even nastier.” Athis finished.  
Ria shot him a look, and from outside the room, Njada called, “I heard that!”  
Athis just grinned, and continued patching himself up.  
Ria shook her head, “C’mon, dinner should be starting soon. We have enough time so I can show you around, and then have some food.” She rose to her feet, and extended a hand to help up Sorri.  
The Breton took it, and followed Ria to the rest of Jorrvaskr.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been nearly two weeks since Sorri had first joined up with the Companions. She had been taking contracts from Aela and Farkas, and was getting to see all sorts of places in Skyrim. She was making a decent amount of coin as well, and didn’t have to worry about paying rent at the inn anymore.  
When not on a job, she was training. She hadn’t found a weapon that suite her quite yet, but stayed away from swords. They took a different sort of handling she didn’t have.  
She was also doing strength training, to tone her body into more of a warrior, rather than her current rather flabby build.   
It was midday, and she was out in the training yard. She had tried her hand at a bow, but it wasn’t going well.  
“Stand up straighter, and loosen your shoulders. You’re holding yourself too tightly, relax.” Aela instructed.  
Sorri did as told, and tried to pull the string back. It took a couple tries, but she pulled, and nocked an arrow. The end of the arrow just touching below her lip.  
“Hold, and aim.” Aela continued.  
Sorri’s arms began to shake, and she tried to steady her breath. Her hands wavered, and tried to find the target.   
“I don’t know how longer I can-”  
Her finger’s opened, and the arrow flew. It landed it the dirt a few feet off the target. Sorri flinched, and let out a yelp in pain. The bow string had scraped her skin.   
“You don’t have much time between when you draw the bow to when you fire. You will wear out fast. You need to know where you’re aiming long beforehand.” Aela said, “Here, watch how I do it.”  
Sorri moved quickly to the side, and Aela stepped up. She let out a breath, and then in on motion, grabbed her arrow, nocked it, drew the bow and fired.  
The arrow pierced dead-center.  
“That’s…incredible. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that.” Sorri said in amazement.  
The older woman smiled, “Training takes time, and effort. If you’re willing to learn, then you will have a teacher. Being good comes from years of practice.”  
Sorri shrugged, “Still though, I don’t think the bow is the right weapon for me.”  
“You still need a weapon though. How have you been killing all of the contracts so far?” Aela questioned.  
Sorri showed her the cheap iron war axe, “Just with this. But it doesn’t feel right, does that make sense? When I swing it, it feels like I’m trying to chop down a tree, rather than kill a bear.”  
“What about a dagger? Skinny thing like you could get away with using two of them. You could stay agile, even if you wouldn’t be doing a lot of damage.” She suggested.  
Sorri shook her head, “Not much one for slicing. I’d rather just hit them until they go down.”  
Aela laughed, “Yes, you’ll be fitting in here quite nicely.”  
The door to Jorrvaskr swung open, and out walk Vilkas. His curved armor shone in the sun.  
“There you are.” He said, walking up to Sorri, “Skjor’s been asking for you.”  
“What does he need?” Sorri asked.  
“Why don’t you go see for yourself? He’s just inside.” Vilkas said shortly.  
She nodded, and quickly put her training weapons away and went inside the dining hall.  
The smell of food was strong in the air, and her stomach growled at the sight. She ignored the urges though, and found her way over to Skjor.  
“You wanted to see me?” she asked, taking a seat in the chair next to him.  
“I did, your time, it seems, has come.” He said, take a bite out of his loaf of bread.  
That seemed rather ominous, “What do you mean?” she asked.  
“Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. Dustman’s Cairn, not too far from Whiterun. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right, the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out.” Skjor explained.  
“And you want me to retrieve it?” Sorri inquired.  
He nodded, “This is a simple errand, but the time is right for it to be your Trial. Carry yourself with honor, and you'll become a true Companion.”  
Then he glanced over, and nodded his head at Farkas, who was sitting nearby, “Farkas will be your Shield-Sibling on this venture, whelp. He'll answer any questions you have. Try not to disappoint. Or to get him killed.”  
She nodded, “What is Wuuthrad?”  
He pointed to the wall above the staircase leading to downstairs, “Wuuthrad is a relic of Ysgramor. Through that weapon, we trace our line straight to the first harbinger of mankind in this land. What fragments we have are displayed in honor, but we always seek more.”  
Sorri rose, and went to see the fragments of Wuuthrad. She leaned against the railing. The Battle-Axe was missing a few pieces, but she could imagine it was a thing of beauty in its day.  
“I hope you’ve readied yourself.”  
Farkas was leaning on the rail beside her, also looking up at Wuuthrad.  
“You’re to be my Shield-Brother?” she looked at him.  
He shrugged, “So I’m told. Let’s see if you impress.”  
“So this is my ‘trial’?” she asked.  
Farkas nodded, “I watch you to make sure you’re honorable. If you are honorable and strong, I can call you my Shield-Sister.”  
“And the scholar?” she asked, “Who was he?”  
“Don’t know much about him, other than that he was smart, and Skjor listened to him.” He said vaguely.  
She pulled back from the rail, “Let me get my things in order, and we’ll head out to Dustman’s Cairn.”  
“Don’t delay, Shield-Sister.” Farkas said, and she quickly ran downstairs.  
Sorri grabbed her belongings, and pulled on armor. It was only hide-the only thing she could afford. She had a cheap iron war-axe, and pulled a pack around her shoulders to carry a few extra tings she found. Debating whether to bring a bow and quiver or not, she decided against it. She was no good shot, and would likely just hit Farkas instead.  
Her short brown hair couldn’t be pulled back, so she let it hang loose. It usually didn’t get in her face, but she brushed it past her ears for comfort’s sake.   
She had her iron dagger still, and strapped it to the inside of her boot the way Aela had told her too. She might be no good with it, but she still wanted to have a back-up weapon in case of being disarmed. Like Vilkas had taught her.  
Sorri met back up with Farkas, and the two left Jorrvaskr, and Whiterun.


	6. Chapter 6

Dustman’s Cairn, according to the map, wasn’t too far from Whiterun. They could walk there. Sorri eyed the stables, looking for a Horse for her to purchase to make it easier, but there were none for sale.  
The sun was high in the sky as they walked along the road. Sorri didn’t care much for rushing, just moving at a comfortable pace.  
“So,” she started out, looking up at Farkas.  
He looked down at her, eyebrows raised.  
She swung ahead of him, and walked backwards so she could face him, “Why did you join up with the Companions?”  
He smiled, “Vilkas and I have been here since we were little whelps. Our father, Jergen, raised us here. Even Vignar couldn't remember Companions younger than us!”  
“And what’s it been like?” she was so curious about how life for these trained warriors had been.  
He shrugged, “I've never been a smart one. But the Companions welcome anyone with the heart of a warrior. When we step into battle, we fight for our own name, and the name of the Companions. They are my family. We fight so that other people don't have to. We bring honor and glory to ourselves and each other.”  
She grinned, that life was entralling for her.  
Walking backwards proved it difficulties, as she miss-stepped on a loose stone, and tripped. Before she could fall, Farkas grabbed her arm, and steadied her, “Easy now, don’t want you getting hurt before the fighting’s even begun.”  
She gave a nervous laugh, and a blush. Steadying herself, she went back to facing forwards, and walking alongside Farkas instead.  
“And what about you?” he asked, looking down at her, with soft, puppy like eyes.  
“What do you mean?”  
He spread out his palms, “Why’d you want to join up?”  
“Oh, well…” she thought for a moment, “I needed the money, mostly. And somewhere to sleep. And-I heard tales about the Companions of legend, and to join up seemed so surreal. I know I’m not much of a warrior, but I still wanted to try, and to challenge myself. And it’s been wonderful, everyone is so nice! Well, almost everyone.”  
“Well, you’ve done well on all the contracts you handled, even the Falmer one. Not many can fight against those monsters and live to tell the tale.” He praised.  
She grinned, “Thank you, I’m glad I have a chance at being accepted as a true Companion.”  
They were nearing the Cairn, and she could see Farkas go on alert.   
“You ready?” he asked, and she nodded, gripping her axe.  
They descended into the crypt, and she pushed open the door. A cold wind hit her, and she took a few steps in, and walked down the flight of stairs, Farkas following close behind.  
There were three dead Draugr on the floor, and she shuddered. The Nordic rituals of burying their dead like that made her skin crawl. What was worse was when they came alive.  
These Draugr seemed to be recently killed, like they had awoken, and been put to rest by other adventurers.  
She looked at the cluttered table in the center of the room, with a pickaxe lying on it. There were more signs of recent activity in the cairn.  
“Looks like someone’s been digging here, and recently. Tread lightly.” Farkas warned.  
“D’you think we’ll run into any trouble?” she asked.  
“Other than Draugr, you mean?” he looked at the corpses, “I don’t know for certain. It’s best to be on guard, though.”  
She nodded, and pulled out her war-axe. He copied her movement, and readied his great sword.   
Sorri and Farkas passed through the tunnel, looking for any sign of danger.  
Sorri stepped through, and heard a shuddering sound. She whipped around, and saw a Draugr rising from the dead, blue eyes glowing and seething in rage.  
It came at her with a sword, and she was there to meet it. She deflected the blow, and swung her axe into its chest, and the Draugr crumpled. Another one was running at her with a great sword, and she ducked the blow. She parried, and sliced its arm. It swung, and caught her in the torso. She gasped, and went down, clutching her side. The armor was doing nothing to help her.   
Sorri glared up, and chucked the axe into its head. The Draugr went down, and she yanked the axe out of the body. She looked around, and saw Farkas battling two at once. He had one skewered on the end of his sword, but the other was still giving him trouble.  
She ran over, and hit the Draugr from behind. Farkas pulled off the other undead, and they both stopped to catch their breaths.  
“You alright?” he asked, as she was still holding her side.  
She shook her head, “He got me pretty good.”  
She removed her hand, and felt dizzy to see all the blood. Quickly, she grabbed her pack and covered the wound with a few linen cloths, to soak up the blood. She grabbed a health potion, and drank it. It tasted sweet and fruity. Feeling a sense of relief, she got everything back together, and nodded at Farkas to continue.  
As they made their way through the twisting rooms, Farkas commented, “Be careful around the burial stones. I don’t want to haul you back to Jorrvaskr on my back.”  
That didn’t help her calm her nerves at all, but she took the warning in stride. He was watching to make sure she was honorable and strong. She had to be, to be a Companion.  
She pushed past a cobweb, and saw more dead Draugr. How long ago they died, it was hard to tell. But she didn’t think they were alone.  
She walked down more stairs, and looked around. The chamber was open, and two thrones sat against a wall. An ancient throne room.  
Farkas stopped to examine the thrones and the area, and Sorri looked around some more.   
There was a gate that was blocking their way. She checked around for a chain, but saw nothing. In a side room, there were a few shelves, and a lever.  
Smiling, she walked in, and pulled back the lever.  
Behind her, the gate closed, locking her in the room.  
She spun around, realizing she was trapped. Sorri quickly turned and tried to pull the lever back to its original position. But the lever was stuck in place.  
“Farkas!” she called, running up to the bars of the gate. There was no way she could get through.  
Farkas ran over, and saw her trapped in the room. He bit his lip, and looked like he was trying not to laugh.  
“Now look at what you got yourself into.” He said, shaking his head.  
“The lever is stuck, I can’t get out-don’t laugh!”  
He sighed, a grin still on his face, “No worries. Just sit tight, and I’ll find a release. There always is one.”  
Sorri sighed, and slumped down back near the lever.  
“What was that?” Farkas suddenly asked.  
“What-?” the question died on her lips, as she saw a group of people submerge into the room.  
She quickly pulled back, hoping they wouldn’t notice her. Then, she felt guilty for thinking that. She should be out there, helping Farkas.   
They looked like bandits, but all of them had the same shiny swords. Silver, perhaps? But they looked like trained killers, and Farkas was severely out numbered.  
One of them yelled, “It’s time to die, dog.”   
“We knew you’d be coming here,” taunted another, “Your mistake, Companion.”  
They backed him up, until he was only a few feet from the gate.  
“Which one is that?” one of them asked.  
“Doesn’t matter. He carries that sword, he dies.” Snapped another.  
One of them turned to Farkas, “Killing you will make for an excellent story.”  
“None of you will be alive to tell it,” snarled Farkas, and Sorri felt a shiver down her spine.  
Farkas dropped his sword, and it landed on the ground with a clang. She wanted to scream and ask what he was thinking, but then she saw.  
Farkas hunched over, and slowly began to grow. His armor and skin was replaced by fur. His hands shaped into paws, and grew wicked sharp claws. His head changed and morphed into one of a…of a…  
He let out a howl, and launched into an attack. Within seconds, the men were on the ground dead.  
He shuddered, and landed on all four. He tore off, out of sight.  
Sorri’s mouth was open, and she felt frozen in place. The gate that had trapped her raised.  
She could hear footsteps, and could see Farkas back as a human, standing at the gate. He walked inside slowly, and extended a hand to help her up.  
“I hope I didn’t scare you,” he told her, with a voice of concern.  
“W-what…what was that?” she asked with a trembling voice, not taking his hand.  
“It’s a blessing given to some of us. We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome.” He explained.  
“The Companions are werewolves!?” she demanded.  
“Not everyone, but all the Circle are. It’s a secret to everybody.” He said.  
She took his hand, and got to her feet. That meant…Aela, Skjor, Vilkas, and Kodlak were all werewolves. She would’ve have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.  
“Are…you going to make me a werewolf?” she asked.  
He shook his head, “Oh, no. Only the Circle have the beastblood. Prove your honor to be a Companion. ‘Eyes on the prey, not the horizon’.”  
Sorri looked down at the bodies, “Who are these people?”  
“The Silver Hand. Bad people who don’t like werewolves. So they don’t like us either.”  
She nodded, trying to take it all in stride. When she looked up at Farkas, she expected to see him differently, and she sort of did. There was a hunger to those eyes, and shagginess to his hair. But he didn’t seem anymore fierce some. With his attitude, it was hard to remember he was a natural born warrior. And even harder to imagine him as a wild beast.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, brow furrowing.  
She nodded, “Yes, just…taking everything in. I’ll be fine.”  
She bit her lip before continuing, “And Farkas…thank you for getting me out of there. And protecting me.”  
Farkas gave her a soft smile, “Of course, we protect our own.”  
He shook his head, and looked eastward, “We should keep moving. Still the Draugr to worry about.”  
Sorri took the lead, and they left the Throne Room.


	7. Chapter 7

The winding path lead Sorri and Farkas through the crypt. Ahead of them, two more Silver Hand members were talking to each other.  
“How many of them are there?” she whispered to Farkas.  
Apparently, it wasn’t much of a whisper, because they both looked up in their direction. They drew their weapons, and charged.  
Sorri block the man’s sword with her axe, and pushed him back. Farkas charged for the woman, who was staying back, shooting arrows. Sorri was locked in battle with the Silver Hand. Every time she got a hit, he gave her one back. He was more than a regular bandit.  
Farkas dispatched the woman, and Sorri had enough. She kicked the man down, and finished him off before he could get up.  
She checked the room, and made sure Farkas was okay before moving on.   
They fought against some more woken Draugr, and found some of them already dead, courtesy of the Silver Hand.  
As they moved on, the encountered more of the Silver Hand facing off against the Draugr. They would fight each other, and Sorri and Farkas would finish off the survivors.   
They fought their way through, with each person or undead slain, Sorri could feel herself growing stronger. She became more confident, but riskier. She could charge in, and fight with more fury. She wasn’t prone to enjoy killing, but it was her or them.   
They reached a room with a locked door being the only way out. Sorri rattled it a few times just to make sure, and folded her arms, frustrated.  
“My brother always said that for every door there is a key.” Farkas offered.  
She checked around to see if there was a lever or chain, but came up short. Only after rummaging around in a chest, she found a key. She held it up to Farkas for inspection.  
“They wouldn’t just leave a chance key lying around, would they.” She muttered, before trying it in the lock.  
It fit perfectly, and she swung the door open.  
They faced off against a few skeevers, and Sorri was careful to not let them bite her. They carried many diseases that could seriously hurt her if she wasn’t careful.  
She could hear strange noises coming from the next room, and headed in carefully.  
Two massive frostbite spiders came crawling after them, and she shuddered. She wasn’t particularly afraid of spiders, but wasn’t fond of them either.  
Farkas, o the other hand, looked paralyzed in fear. Sorri quickly ran ahead to finish them off, and to distract them from her companion.  
“Are you alright?” she asked him, after coming back.  
He gave her a meek nod, and took large steps away from the dead spiders.  
“It’s okay. They can’t hurt you now.” She said, her voice easing into a calming tone.  
Sorri lead him away from the chamber, and into the final section.  
Pushing open the heavy iron door, the last chamber was large, and the walls were covered in sarcophagi.   
“Does it seem…a little too quiet to you?” Farkas asked.  
Sorri nodded, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”  
She walked through the chamber, and saw a strange wall at the back of the room. She studied the markings, but then turned away.  
On the plinth, a fragment was lying, waiting for them. She picked it up and studied it.  
“That’s it!” Farkas said happily, “We can head back to Jorrvaskr now, and your trial can complete.”  
Sorri placed it in her pack, and looked around, “Do you see an exit anywhere? There must be one some-wait, what was that?”  
At once, many of the sarcophagi burst open, sending clouds of dust into the air. Draugr were appeared and rising, weapons raised.   
She drew her weapon, and glanced over at Farkas. He nodded, and they both attacked.  
It didn’t seem to matter how many she killed-they just kept coming. She was surrounded at one point, and barely managed to fight her way out of it. The hide armor was doing nothing to stop their blows, and her body was getting ripped to shreds.  
“I don’t know how much longer I can…I can…” she was out of breath, and holding her axe in front of her, shakily.  
Farkas was running into problems of his own, “I checked the door we entered from!” he called over the hordes of Draugr, “It’s locked tight.”  
Sorri yanked her axe from the head of a dead Draugr, and kicked another away. She was bleeding heavily, and felt woozy. She could hear the sounds of more coffins opening, unleashing more Draugr. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash out light. Sorri turned and saw tht one of the coffins had opened up a passage way.  
“There! Over there!” she called to Farkas, fighting her way through a few more Draugr, “A tunnel has opened up!”  
Farkas glanced upwards, and nodded, and they both made their way to the ramp up. He fought them back as Sorri sprinted up there, a new-found energy coursing through her.   
“C’mon!” she called, and Farkas followed quickly after.  
They passed through the tunnel, and Sorri wound the end blocked. She could hear the Draugr slowly approaching, heading down the tunnel. Farkas got into position to fight them off.  
She glanced around, and found a lever. She pulled it, and the wall blocking them began to lower.  
The first Draugr rounded the bend, and Sorri knew they were out of time. She grabbed Farkas’ shoulder, and pulled him along, jumping over the descending wall.   
Then, before she left, she reached over and pulled the lever from inside the tunnel. The wall closed back up, and the Draugr were trapped inside.  
She slumped down, shaking her head and laughing. She was still in pain, but now that she was safe, she could let the tension go.  
“Do you need healing?” he asked, concerned.  
She shook her head, “I’ll be, ugh, I’ll be fine.” She hauled herself up with the help of Farkas, “Your right, let’s head back to Jorrvaskr.”  
Sorri finally took in their surroundings, and realized they were in the same room that they had entered from. Shaking her head, she led the way out of the door, and back into the plains of Whiterun.

 

Back in Whiterun, Sorri and Farkas made their way up to Jorrvaskr. The Sky was dusky, and the moon starting to rise. The streets felt familiar, and Sorri felt comfortable. She only been there for about a month, but it was nice, still.   
Sorri and Farkas climbed the steps, and she noticed that Vilkas was there waiting for them.  
“Come, to the yard.” He said, “And stand before the Circle for judgment.”  
She followed the two brothers out back, and saw Aela, Skjor, and Kodlak already out there, holding torches to beat off the night.  
Vilkas and Farkas joined the semi-circle, and Sorri stood, facing them.  
Kodlak spoke, “Brothers and Sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged and has showed her valor. Who will speak for her?”  
Farkas then raised his head, “I stand witness for the courage of the soul before us.”  
Kodlak asked, “Would you raise your shield in her defense?”  
Farkas smiled, “I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us.”  
“And would you raise your sword in her honor?”  
“It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes.”  
“And would you raise a mug in her name?”  
“I would lead the song in triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories.” Farkas declared.   
Kodlak raised a hand, “Then this judgment of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, so the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call.”  
And then the Circle said together, “It shall be so.”  
Sorri felt a great deal of heat rise in her cheeks, but she was beaming in pride by the end of it.   
A Companion-she was a true Companion.   
At first, all she wanted was work, but now living a life as a warrior-she couldn’t imagine it any differently.  
The Circle dispersed, and Farkas and her shared one last smile, before they headed inside Jorrvaskr. Kodlak remained outside with her.  
“Well, girl, you’re one of us now. I trust you won’t disappoint.”  
She bit her lip, and nodded.   
There was one burning question that still remained, but she wondered if it was her place to ask it. She glanced around, to make sure they were truly alone, and lowered her voice, “Is it…”  
He looked at her expectantly.  
The words rushed out of her mouth, “Is it really true that the Companions are werewolves?”  
A small expression of surprised crossed over his face, before settling once more, “I see you’ve been allowed to know some secrets before your appointed time.”  
She quickly rushed to the defense, “Farkas didn’t mean to tell me-the Silver Hand were at Dustman’s Cairn, and to save us he needed to transform.”  
He held up a hand to stop her, “Yes, it’s true. Not every Companion, no, only members of the Circle all share the blood of the beast. Some take to it more than others.”  
“And what do you think about it?” she asked curiously.  
Kodlak let out a weary sigh, “Well, I grow old. My mind turns towards the horizon, to Sovngarde. I worry that Shor won’t call an animal warrior as he would a true Nord warrior. Living as beasts draws our souls closer to the Daedric lord, Hircine. Some may prefer eternity in his hunting grounds, but I crave the fellowship of Sovngarde.”  
“Are you looking for a cure, then?” Sorri asked.  
He nodded, “Yes, but it’s no easy matter. But you don’t need to share the worries of an old warrior. This day is to rejoice in your bravery and speak to Eorlund for a better weapon than... whatever that is.”  
He gestured towards her cheap iron war-axe, and headed back inside.  
Sorri was left alone with her thoughts for a moment, before deciding to check the Skyforge to see if Eorlund was still working.  
He was still hammering away at a breastplate, and noticed her approach.  
“I’ve been sent to get a better weapon from you.” She told him.  
“Yes, lass, you've been raised into the Companions, I hear. I can fashion whatever kind of weapon you want. Finest forge in Skyrim, right here before you.”  
She thought for a moment. She wasn’t good with blades, and the war-axe didn’t deal enough damage for her liking. She wanted something-bigger.  
“Can I have a war hammer?” she asked.  
He laughed, “You sure you can handle that much weapon?”  
Even though she felt a flicker out doubt, she nodded fiercely.  
He shrugged, and fixed one up for her, “Here you go, lass. Skyforge Steel. Ain’t nothing like it.”  
She took it, and nearly crumpled under the weight. Bracing herself, she lifted it up, testing its balance and weight. Giving it a few practice swings, she realized that when she attacked, her whole body went with it.   
Sorri rested on her back, in its hold. The weight forced her to walk with a certain confidence, and kept her back straight when it would otherwise be quite hunched.   
“Thank you!” she said, with a bright smile at the blacksmith.  
“Don’t mention it, lass. And-” he offered her a small smile, “Welcome to the Companions.”


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks later, she was still running jobs through-out Skyrim. Rescuing captured citizens, returning valuable family heirlooms, putting trouble-makers in their place…she was in and out of Jorrvaskr nearly every day. And the coin was piling up too. She bought herself some new armor, a nice set of boiled leather that did a lot better of protecting her than the hide did.  
Sorri was coming back from a contract-exterminating a few wild beasts from a poor citizen’s house-and she was tired. She made her way down to the living quarters, peeling off her weapons and armor.   
She collapsed on her bed, stretching upwards to loosen up.   
It was only then, when her vision went back into focus did she realize she wasn’t alone.  
Athis the Dunmer was polishing his sword, and looking at her in mild amusement.  
“Shouldn’t you be at dinner with the others?” Sorri questioned, running her fingers through her hair to fix it.  
He raised an eyebrow, “I should-I’ll join them soon. What happen to you? Tough contract?”  
She shrugged, “Two snow bears in some poor farmer’s house in Eastmarch. They gave me some trouble-but nothing I couldn’t handle.” She added quickly.  
He gave her an odd look, and she sat up, looking at him questioningly.  
He continued working on polishing, “One might wonder what a Breton things she’s doing, living and fighting alongside Nord warriors of legend.”  
“And one might wonder why a Dunmer is in the exact same position.” She shot back.  
He snorted, “’Even an elf can be born with the heart of a Nord,’ Skjor said when I joined. I think he meant it as a compliment.” He glanced up for a second, “You and me…we’ve sighed on for the Nord ideas of how to live your life. Honor, battle, glory, all that.”  
“Who says only Nords can live with honor?” Sorri pointed out.  
“Nobody I know-at least not to my face. I’d never thought they actually let me in-but it turns out they’re letting anyone these days.” Athis told her.  
“Well, why’d you sign on to a Nord’s way of living?”  
He laughed, “Fortune and glory, friend, fortune and glory.”  
He rose, and sheathed his sword, and glanced down at Sorri. His eyes shifted to the war hammer at the end of her bed, “Little thing like you-I can’t believe you’ve survived this long.”  
Sorri sat up, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  
“You do that,” he smirked, “Aren’t you better suited for-oh I don’t know, spellcasting? Wizardry and magics?”   
“I could ask you the same thing, elf.” She told him.  
He chuckled, “Dunmer are good at lot of things-fighting, magic, staying out of sight. But Bretons? You’re good at two things-politics and sorcery.”  
“And I happen to have a dislike for both-perhaps I was born with the wrong family.” She said with a shrug, “Never had a talent for magic. Ma tried to teach me when I was little, but it never went right. I didn’t have the patient to learn from all those spell books and nothing would come naturally. Good with a forge though, and I think I’m improving on my monster-slaying.”  
“Then you certainly fit in around here. You coming up for dinner?” he asked.  
She nodded, and was about to get to her feet, when Athis offered a hand. Smiling, she took it, and after being hoisted up, they walked up to the dining hall together.

 

The next morning, Sorri was feeling better, and found Aela tapping her foot impatiently. Njada had gone on a contract, and hadn’t returned yet.  
“Any work to be done?” Sorri asked.  
Aela turned, her eyes lit up in interest, “Still eager to please. This is good. Skjor may be right about you. He has something special planned for you. Better talk to him.”  
Wondering what that could be, Sorri went out to the yard to fine Skjor watching Torvar and Ria train together.  
“Yes, I have something special for you.” Skjor said, “But it's not for everyone to hear. Meet me in the Underforge tonight. We will speak more.”  
Sorri frowned, “What’s the Underforge?”  
He tuned his head so he could look at her with his good eye, “I forget that you've never seen it. Beneath the Skyforge, where Eorlund works. The door is hidden, but I will show you the way when the time comes.”  
She bit her lip, “Can I ask you something?”  
He looked at her expectantly.  
“What’s it like?” she heard herself saying, “Being a werewolf.”  
“A sensitive question. You may want to be careful broaching that subject with some. The old man and I have our differences when it comes to this. It's a blessing, given by Hircine. To worry about the hereafter means losing sight of the now. What do I care about Sovngarde? Give me the power to tear my foes as a beast of the wild, and I will savor it.” Skjor told her.  
She nodded, and went back to the porch she took a seat, and watched Ria and Torvar spar. Ria eventually beat him, and he fell to the ground. Taking a few shaky steps, he shook his head.   
“Are you alright?” Ria asked, concerned.  
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Good fight.” He muttered, and took a seat at the bench next to Sorri.  
He uncorked a bottle from under the bench, and began drinking. He glanced over at her, “Wanna drink?” he asked, pulling a second mead bottle out.  
She looked up in the sky-the sun hadn’t even risen to midday yet.   
“I’m good-thank you though. I’m not one for drinking.” She admitted.  
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, “Then you just haven’t found the right drink yet! C’mon, give it a try.”  
Letting out a sigh, she took the bottle, and looked it over, “Nord mead is too bitter for my liking. Even your wines taste off. Don’t know how you stand it.”  
He laughed, “Try that. Honningbrew mead. Sweetest brew in the province. Maybe not as sweet as your fancy Breton wines, but it might serve your fussy taste buds well.”  
She bit her lip, and uncorked it, smelling it, “Didn’t I hear that Honningbrew went out of business?”  
“Oh, it did. The old owner is rotting in the Whiterun prison now. Black-Briar Meadery runs to meadery now. The new owner still makes Honningbrew mead every month or so, using the original recipe. If you can afford to make a deal, pay a little extra, and keep your trap shut, he’ll give you ‘em. He and I have a nice deal going-and the funds come easy working for the Companions. Nice little arrangement going on. So drink! Enjoy!”  
Sorri took a sip, and it was just as sweet as he said. She relaxed down in her seat, savoring the drink. When she looked over, Torvar was watching her in amusement.   
“Well?” he asked.  
She smiled, “It’s good. Thank you, Torvar.”  
He waved her away, “Eh, anytime. Now, just remember the order-Get drunk first, do job second, and then get even more drunk!”   
Shaking his head, he got to his feet, stretching, and went back inside, bottle in hand.  
Sorri glanced over, back at the yard while still drinking. Ria caught her eye, and made her way over.  
“So, how’s life as a Companion treating you?” ria asked with a bright smile.  
“Rather well, I’d say.” Sorri told her, stroking her mother’s gift to her-her silver necklace, “This life…it’s everything I could have hoped for.”  
Aela left Jorrvaskr, and headed out to the yard, passing Sorri and Ria.  
“D’you want to spar with me? For training?” asked Ria.  
“Oh, well…” Sorri looked down at the drink, “Maybe not right now, it might be a bad idea. But later though!”  
A small flash of disappointment crossed Ria’s face, before resting to her normal smile, “It’s been nice having you around, Sorri. A new face has been good for us. And it’s nice not being the newest one here anymore.”  
“And how about you? What’s it like to be a Companion?”  
Ria beamed, “Incredible. This group... this family... this band... this is the best thing I've ever been a part of. The oldest fighting group in Skyrim, and nothing but glory from Ysgramor's day to our own. To be counted in that line is a bit of immortality. Even if I never see Sovngarde, I'll have that much.”  
Sorri smiled, and continued drinking.  
Over in the yard, she could hear Aela and Skjor speaking.  
“All these younglings scampering around…” muttered Skjor.  
Aela laughed, “Worried one of them is going to take your place?”  
Skjor shook his head, “Some of them might try. But that's not what I'm worried about.”  
“What then?”  
“That they might get themselves killed.”  
“By you?” Aela asked.  
Skjor snorted, “They should be so lucky.”  
A cold breeze blew past, and the sky overhead began to disappear into a cover of grey clouds. A few snowflakes began to fall.   
Sorri shivered, and rubbed her arms to keep warm, “I don’t know how the Nords do it-living up here in the cold.”  
Ria shrugged, “Vilkas once said it was because the Nords are born with ice in their veins-the cold doesn’t bother them.”  
Sorri could feel a few snowflakes land and melt on her face, “Still though-I’ve always preferred the cold months.”  
Ria laughed, “Really? Why?”  
She smiled, “Not a fan of all the flowers that bloom in the warmer months. I’ve got terrible allergies.”  
Ria nodded understandingly, “Well, anytime you’d like to train, just say the word.”  
Sorri smiled, as Ria headed back inside.  
The Breton spent a moment longer on the porch, finishing off the bottle of mead. She wondered what Skjor wanted with her, and why it was so secretive. She supposed she would just have to wait for nightfall.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorri was flipping through pages of a book, curled up on a chair in the main hall of Jorrvaskr. The sounds of her fellow warriors talking and laughing around her did not distract her from the words.   
She glanced up, and caught Farkas’ eye. He looked down quickly, and turned back to whatever he had been doing. She found that to be a little strange, but didn’t question it.  
Wondering if it was dark yet, she placed the book down and headed outside.   
The sky was dark, and had become clear. She could hear crickets chirping, and the moons were high in the sky.  
The aurora was a swirl of blues and greens, and the wind was a gentle breeze.  
The yard was empty, and Sorri looked around. She saw the flicker of torchlight, and followed it to see Skjor waiting for her at the base of the rock that held the Skyforge. She made her way over.  
“Are you prepared?” he asked.  
She looked at the stone, wondering how they were going to get inside, “What is this place?”  
“Here's all you need to know. Jorrvaskr is the oldest building in Whiterun. The Skyforge was here long before it was. And the Underforge taps an ancient magic that is older than men or elves. We bring you here to make you stronger, new blood. Now let's move.”  
“I’m prepared for any test.” She told him confidently.  
He smiled, “This is no test, new blood. This is a gift. Come inside.”  
He led her through, and as they walked, a door in the stone faded momentarily to let them pass.   
Once inside, she looked around in awe. Empty alters covered the walls, and moonlight streamed in from the low ceiling. It was a cave, but somehow-more. She could feel the prickle of magic on her skin, it lay heavy in the air.   
In the center, there was a strange empty basin. And beside it, a great beast, a werewolf was watching her.   
Sorri knew that she shouldn’t be scared, but she couldn’t help her heart quicken when she saw the wolf. She saw how fast those claws could tear a person apart-even though the Companions would never hurt her.  
She looked into the werewolf’s eyes. There was a familiar-hunger to them. It was the same look that…that Aela had.  
Stepping closer, Skjor took the lead, and stood beside the wolf.  
“I'm glad you came.” He started out, “It's been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers. That pitiful ceremony behind the hall does not befit warriors like us. You are due more honor than some calls and feasting.”  
He looked at the wolf, “I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form. She's agreed to be your forebear. We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed. But we've been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse? So we take matters into our own hands.”  
His eye met hers, “To reach the heights of the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf.”  
“You mean…” she trailed off, looking at Aela, and knowing what he meant.  
He nodded, “Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world, friend?”  
“I-don’t know. I thought only Circle members were werewolves?” she questioned.  
“You thought correctly. The choice is yours, sister. We will not force you. But to join the Circle, your blood must be as ours.” Skjor explained.  
Sorri nodded, looking at Aela. She would be lying if that sort of power wasn’t…enticing. To be that strong, that powerful, she could be a true warrior. And ever since she had seen Farkas’ transformation, she couldn’t help but think about it. But she never imagined being given the chance of becoming one herself.   
Sorri glanced upwards, looking at the two of them, “I’m ready.”  
Who was she to give up the chance of such power? It was an honor to be offered a place amongst the Circle, and the blood of the wolf.  
Skjor nodded, and drew a dagger. He grabbed Aela paw, and slicing into it. Sorri flinched, and saw the blood pooling into the basin. Soon, it was full of the dark red liquid.  
He looked up at her once again, “The blood calls, sister and waits for you to drink from the fountain.”  
Sorri’s stomach churned at the thought, but approached the basin slowly. She looked up at the two Companions again, and then at the red, murky depths.  
How much would she have to drink?  
She had to climb up part of it to reach her hand in, as she was so short. Cupping her hand, she scooped Aela’s blood up, and poured it into her mouth. It was metallic and tangy, and hot. It stung her throat going down, and it was all she could do to not sputter it back up.  
She could then feel an odd sensation, coming deep within her. Something had awoken inside. Feelings of dizziness overcame her, and the world spun, and faded to black.

 

Pain. Hot, blinding pain shot through her. It etched itself deep into her very bones. She felt uncomfortably warm, heat pressed against her flesh. Her mouth gnawed with hunger, and her claws dug deeply into the dirt as she ran.  
Running…by the Gods was she running. Faster than she had ever moved before, she moved with the power of the wild. Every movement ached and pulled something deep inside of her.   
The moons were above, illuminating her run through the plains of Whiterun. She stopped for a moment, and raised up two legs. Stretching out her front legs, she howled at the moons. From a nearby hill, she could hear the yowls of her wolf brethren joining her.   
She could smell something in the wind-prey. Her canine senses kicked in, and within moments, she found her target. A lone deer, grazing peacefully amongst the tall grasses. She launched herself on it, and devoured it.   
She had never felt more powerful, more in control. Gone were the days of the weak little girl who was never quite good enough, never quite fit in.  
She was a werewolf, and when she moved the whole world seemed to slow down. She howled again, hoping all of Tamriel would hear her cry.   
Clawing the ground, she set off to find more prey. The thrill of the hunt was the only thing that mattered.

 

Sorri let out a low groan, feeling her body ache. There was such a deep-seated pain encompassing her entire body, it hurt even to move.   
The first thing she felt was the cold, and she shivered, clutching her body. That’s when she realized she was naked.   
She blinked her eyes open a few times, trying to adjust to her surroundings. She was in the wilderness, and snow was falling from the sky. It was nearly dawn, but still the sounds of night birds could be heard from the trees.  
“Here, put these on.” Said a voice.  
Sorri let out a shriek, and covered herself with her hand quickly. She looked up, and saw Aela standing over her, clothes and armor in hand. Sorri took them shakily, while Aela averted her eyes.  
“Are you alright? I was starting to think you might never come back. Yours was not an easy transformation. But you're still alive, so congratulations. We even have a celebration planned for you. There's a pack of werewolf hunters camped nearby, at Gallows Rock. The Silver Hand. I think you've met them before. We're going to slaughter them. All of them.”  
She got changed, glad for the warmth and the modesty.  
“What…what just happened?” Sorri held her throbbing head, her throat feeling dry.  
Aela smiled, “You were born into the pack, sister. I almost envy you. That first time is always the most... intense. You gave us even more trouble than Farkas did at his first turning.”  
Sorri swallowed, feeling sick, “So, I’m a werewolf now?”  
“You have the blood of the wolf in you. You'll need to build up your strength before you can call on it again, though…Just be careful where you do it. Some cowards in this land can't stand the sight of glory before them.” Aela explained.  
“What does this mean, now?”  
Aela shook her head, “Nothing, until you choose to use it. Then, well... you got a taste. Stronger, faster. It doesn't last long, though. The blood of your foes can sustain you. If you're willing to feed.”  
“Is…is there a cure?” Sorri ventured.  
Aela laughed, “Cure? Hah. You're sounding like the old man. I... shouldn't say that. I love Kodlak. I respect and follow him. But he's wrong on this. It's no curse. We're made into the greatest hunters in the land. If he's worried about some mead-swilling afterlife in Sovngarde, he's free to pursue it. I'll take the glories of the hunt right here.”  
“Where are we going?” Sorri asked, still dazed from the transformation.  
“The Silver Hand have taken over the old fort at Gallows Rock. They always make such easy prey Lead on. Skjor's already scouting ahead.”  
She tried to get to her feet, but she was still shaky. She stumbled, and Aela made to catch her, but Sorri steadied.  
She thought the pain would subsid, but it didn’t. She could still feel the raw hunger aching in her mouth.   
Looking at Aela, and nodding, she made her way to the fort she saw in the distance. Gallows Rock.


	10. Chapter 10

After fighting through the first few members of the Silver Hand, the two Companions entered Gallows Rock. The path was blocked by metal spears, and when Sorri approached them, she could smell the silver in the air.  
“Look at this.” Aela muttered, “Cowards must have locked the place down after Skjor charged in. You can taste the fear.”  
Sorri pulled the chain, and the spears descended.  
“What is this place?” Sorri asked, her weapon drawn.  
Aela looked around, “Old fort. Abandoned for years. They're like jackals, making their home anywhere they can find.”  
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, three Silver Hand members rose up, weapons drawn. Sorri charged in, war hammer in hand Aela stayed back, firing from a distance.  
When she swung, her whole body moved with it, giving her the feeling of a whirlwind when she fought. The anger and rage and hunger that had consumed her as a wolf hadn’t gone away. She fought with a ferocity now, reveling in every kill.  
Once they were dead, Sorri checked one of the door. Barred from the other side. She tried another, and let out a horrified squeal.  
“There's a dead one, isn't there.” Aela said, coming up from behind.  
They both looked at the dead werewolf, body flayed and hanging, “Thought so. Nobody we know, by the smell. Some can't separate the animal from themselves. Go feral. This poor sod could have been anyone. We should keep moving and catch up to Skjor.” Aela urged.  
Sorri closed the door, and moved on.  
As they walked, Aela suddenly pulled her back, “Watch yourself. There’s traps along the floors. Step on one and you would be dead in an instant.”  
Sorri nodded, and proceeded with caution, looking for any trip wires or pressure plates.  
More Silver Hand blocked their path, and Sorri and Aela quickly finished them off. The thrill of the fight, her heart pounding in her ears. It was exhilarating, refreshing. She felt good-powerful. Better than she ever had before. Was this the power of the wolf?  
When she saw one Silver Hand faced away from her, back turned, she had to resist the urge to pounce on her. She no longer had the body of the wolf, but her mind would not switch as easily.  
They passed by jail cells, holding the remains of more dead werewolves. Sorri felt a flash of rage emerge in her.  
“Nothing we can do for these ones now.” Aela told her, “Don't even want to think about what those cretins did to them before they died.”  
It gave Sorri pleasure to hunt down and kill the other Silver Hand members populating the area.  
As they made their way through the Fort, they killed every member they saw, and Sorri grew angry every time she saw the pelt of a werewolf hanging from the walls.   
She expected more of the members to be dead, considering Skjor had already gone past there.   
Sorri and Aela charged through the fort, leaving the Silver Hand in their trail, filled with bloodstains and arrows.   
“We're getting close now. Be careful. Their leader is a tricky one. They call him 'the Skinner.' I don't think I need to tell you why.” Aela said.  
Sorri shuddered, and walked through the next area. When she reached the final door, she pushed it open carefully.  
A group of five Silver Hand members were waiting there, including their leader. An old Nord man that she assumed was the Skinner.  
Sorri readied her weapon, and charged.  
Before she could even reach the first Hand, an arrow protruded from his chest, and he staggered back. She swung, and nailed him with the end of her warm hammer. He went flying across the room, and landed in a heap.  
She spun, facing the other two, teeth bared. They attacked from both sides, but she moved, using the momentum of the heavy hammer. She swung into both of them, knocking them aside, and then smashing them when they tried to get up.  
An archer was staying near the back, firing at her. An arrow stuck her shoulder and she yelped in pain. Another Silver Hand stabbed her, but her armor protected her from the worst of the damage. She grabbed the one that stabbed her, and used him as a shield against the archer. The archer’s arrows struck true, and the man fell dead in her hands. Aela finished off the archer.  
Sorri breathed heavily, but a fire was lit now. She glared up at the Skinner, who was advancing. She made to struck him, but he deflected with his shield. She lunched, and he dodged, and stuck back. His blade pierced her side, and she gasped.  
He grabbed her by the throat, and held her up, snarling. “You’re going to die today, dog!”  
She struggled to get out of his grasp, when suddenly an arrow pierced his hand. He cried in pain, and dropped her. She fell to the ground with a thud.   
Sorri got up quickly, and soon his face met with her hammer, and he lay on the ground, dead.  
Stopping to catch her breath, she look up to find Aela. A grin was spreading across her face, but died when she saw the huntress’s face.  
“Aela?” she asked, “What’s wro-”  
She made her way over to her, and saw what she was looking at.  
“No…no…” Sorri whispered.  
“Those bastards... somehow they managed to kill Skjor. He was one of the strongest we had, but numbers can overwhelm. He should not have come without a Shield-Brother.” Aela was trembling with anger and sorrow  
She knelt at Skjor’s dead body, and closed his eyes.  
Sorri bowed her head, feeling a swirl of emotions.   
“Get out of here. I'm going to make sure we got the last of them, and see if there's any information to be gotten from the bodies. You and I have work to do. The Silver Hand will tremble at our sight.” Aela declared, not moving from his side.  
“Aela…”   
“What?” she snapped.  
“I-I’m sorry.”  
Aela just shook her head, “You should go back to Jorrvaskr, and inform the others. Don’t wait for me.”  
Sorri nodded, and turned to leave.  
The feelings of sadness clutched at her heart, but also a rage. An anger so fierce it boiled in her blood. It scared her, for a moment.  
For years, she had always kept her emotions in check, or at least her anger. Whenever she was upset, she never let it get to her. She never…indulged in rage. It was better to move on, and to be happy.  
But this rage…it was consuming. The fierceness welled up inside her. She wanted to transform back into the wolf, and hunt down every Silver Hand member and make them pay for what they did.  
Sorri had never been so angry in her life, and she slammed the door behind her when she left Gallows Rock.  
She wanted to lay down and cry, but nothing would come. She wanted to go back to Jorrvaskr-go back home-and be safe.  
The sun was shining in the sky, a mockery of it all. Skjor was dead, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible.  
Whatever Aela had in store, Sorri was ready for it. They were going to make those bastards pay.


	11. Chapter 11

When Sorri returned to Jorrvaskr with the news, it was a dreary day. Each person mourned at the loss of such a great warrior and role model.   
The last person she told was the one she was dreading telling the most.  
She made her way past the living quarters, down to the Harbinger’s room and study. She knocked on the door, and swung it open. Her eyes were bloodshot and red from crying.  
“What is it, child?” Kodlak asked as she approached, worry in his eyes.  
“Skjor…” she choked, “Skjor has fallen to the Silver Hand.”  
His face fell into one of deep grief, “This is... he should not have gone alone. Thank you for telling me. This is a day where our souls must cry, and our hearts will answer.”  
She nodded, and turned to leave.  
“But, one last thing.” He looked at her intently, “I see you have joined us in the blood of the wolf. Without my knowledge.”  
“I-I…” in all that had happened, she had almost forgotten that they had gone behind Kodlak’s back.  
“I have…and-I’m sorry. I know that you are against it but Aela and Skjor told me to come to the Underforge and that they would turn me and I could rise higher as a Companion and that’s what I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself like the Companions and when I transformed it felt good but I’m in so much pain and I wish it never happened so Skjor would still be alive and-” when the words rushed out she couldn’t stop them and she didn’t even stop for breath. But once she did stop, tears began to flow again, and she couldn’t stop crying.  
He held up a hand, “Easy now, girl. I’m not blaming you. We’ll speak of this later. Go. Grieve in whatever way you know.”  
Still sobbing, she left the room, and back to her bed. She was crying so hard that she couldn’t stop, and could only take shuddering, gasping breaths for air. She was mess by the time she reached her bed, and crawled in, not knowing what time it was. She was so tired and so sore, and feeling terrible. She curled herself up tightly, and clutched at the pillow. Tear marks were staining it quickly.  
She wanted to sleep quickly, and leave the world for a while.

 

But she received no such peace. She slept fitfully, with intense dreams that left her with no rest. She awoke feeling even more miserable then when she woke up. The dull ache in her body never left her mind, and her head still pounded away. She coughed a little, reaching to find some water.  
She didn’t know the time, or the day. All she knew is that sleep didn’t help her anymore.  
Sorri rose, and went to change. She was fixing up her leather armor, so she put on some simple clothing to relax in. Reaching at the dresser, she saw the necklace her mother had given her. A beautiful thing, and the only physical remnant Sorri had of her.   
She reached out to put it on, and gasped in pain. The necklace fell from her hands, and landed on the carpeted floor. She looked at her hand, as it was still stinging from the contact with the necklace.  
Someone was running up to the entryway to the quarters. Sorri looked around to see Farkas there, looking concerned.   
“Are you alright?” he asked, coming in.  
She shook her head, raw emotions still welling up inside her, “My necklace…my mother’s necklace…it burns me.”  
He looked down at it, “Silver. That’s what it does to us.”  
Their eyes met, and she could sense the wolfblood pounding within him, and knew that he could feel the same for her.  
“Aela and…and Skjor, they turned you?”  
She nodded, wishing she could fight back the tears that were welling up again.  
“I-I wish things had been different. I never wanted anyone to get hurt, I never even thought Skjor could be hurt. He seemed invincible.” She sputtered out.  
Farkas nodded, “I always looked up to him, he was always good to my brother and me.”  
She bit her lip, “If my transformation had been faster-if we had moved quicker through the fort-if I had rejected the offer, anything! He’d still be alive.”  
“Don’t,” Farkas said gruffly, “You can’t blame yourself.”  
She just sighed and shook her head, “I just wish things had been different.”  
Farkas looked at her, “This all happened after your transformation?”  
She nodded.  
“What was the turning like?” he asked.  
She bit her lip, “Terrifying. Amazing. Powerful. I’ve never felt anything like it, so addictive, so seductive.”  
She looked up at him, her throat dry, “What’s it like for you?”  
Farkas looked down, “I like being stronger when I become the wolf. But Kodlak says it is bad for the soul, and I trust him.”  
“Does…does the pain ever go away? Does the hunger ever stop? I couldn’t get a peaceful sleep.” She told him, stepping closer.   
He shook his head, “We all feel it. My brother says it’s the wolf trying to get out, wrestling control from us. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in pain, or had a restful sleep. But we’ve learned to live with it.”  
“That necklace…it’s from my mother. She died two years ago, it’s the only thing I have left of her. And I’ve always worn it, or at least had it with me. But I never thought it would hurt after they turned me.”  
Farkas looked at her with an odd expression Sorri couldn’t place. He reached down, and made to pick it up.  
“No, wait!” she tried to stop him, but he grabbed it, and placed it back on the dresser.  
She saw the flash of pain on his face, and she grabbed his hand, “Doesn’t it hurt you?” she asked with a cracking voice.   
Farkas shrugged, “Yes, but I can take a little pain.”  
She was holding his hand, needing both of her to do so. She looked at the necklace, and let out a deep sigh, “Thank you,”  
“You’ll still have it. It’ll always be there.” He told her, he moved a little bit closer, so much so that their arms brushed for a brief moment.   
She felt a flutter in her stomach that she wasn’t sure if it was from hunger…or something else.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, his brow coming together in concern.  
She nodded hurriedly, looking up at him.   
“We should…we should head up to the dining hall.” Sorri said, “Is it morning? I’ve lost track.”  
He gave her a strange look, “It’s almost dinner time.”  
“Oh,” was all she said.  
“We can still go up, are you hungry?”  
She nodded enthusiastically, and he grinned, and lead the way.


	12. Chapter 12

Sorri had been running contracts with Aela for a week. She had taken out groups of Silver Hand, killed their leaders, and stolen battle plans. Aela was working on compiling their next plan of attack while Sorri worked out in the field.  
There was a fire behind Aela now, fueled by the rage and grief that came from Skjor’s death. Sorri had heard things about Aela and Skjor’s relationship-more than just friends. She never brought it up, she knew that the wound still ran deep.  
For her, she threw everything she had in destroying the Silver Hand. It gave her the satisfaction to know she was enacting vengeance for Skjor’s death.   
When there was a lull between contracts, Sorri was training. Building up her strength, practicing with weaponry. Wielding the war hammer was making her strong, and that rage she had felt persisted. Only now she could focus it.  
She still had restless nights, but learned that it was because of the beast blood. Tossing and turning in her sleep, never once having a peaceful dream. She would wake up in the mornings tired and disorientated.   
And the hunger-the desire to transform into a werewolf consumed her thoughts. It took everything in her to not stay as a beast as long as she could. She would often indulge, and kill the Silver Hand as a werewolf, and occasionally go out hunting in the plains of Whiterun or the forests of Falkreach.   
“Back!” Vilkas called.  
She clutched the warm hammer, her head lowered, and circled around her opponent. Vilkas was doing the same, his great sword in hand.  
He swung, and she titled it diagonally to block it. But it a movement, his blade reached under, and came inches from her chest.   
“Keep it level with the ground, and keep your hands closer together. A strong enemy can break the hammer in half.” Vilkas instructed.  
She nodded, and they continued to rotate around each other. She charged, but he side stepped and swiped, “Too slow. You’re smaller than me, you need to be faster.”  
She snarled, “How I am supposed to be agile with a war hammer?”  
He shook his head, “You are not your weapon. You have good reach with that weapon. Use it.”  
She changed her grip, giving her more chance to back up while still attacking. She swung, and he blocked, and stepped in. She jumped back, but kept her war hammer at his side. She moved upwards it a jerking movement, and Vilkas barely had time to move.  
“Good, good. Stay light on your feet. Until you can learn to take a few hits, or get some better armor, you need to not get hit.” He continued, “And keep your eyes on the battlefield. While you’re fighting me, I could have a friend peppering you with arrows from afar.”  
She swung, and he caught it with his blade, “Focus on your swing. You want to do as much damage with overexerting yourself. If you run out of energy after a couple of swings, you’ll never survive the full fight.”  
As she moved, he caught the hammer, and tossed it aside. She went flying with it, and it flung out of her hands. She scrambled to pick it up, but the end of his blade was on her shoulder.   
“There. Dead.” Vilkas said with a smirk.   
She let out a sigh, and slumped on the ground.  
“What, no witty commentary? No protesting that somehow you could still be alive?” he teased.  
She just shook her head, and grabbed the hammer, “Show me how to control my swings. It always gets me.”  
He just looked at her in amusement, “No, not today. We’ll do it some other time. Now, you and I are going to share a drink.”  
“I-I don’t have the time.” She muttered, placing the hammer on her back.  
“But you had the time for more training?” Vilkas called her out, “More work for Aela, I’d assume?”  
She looked up sharply, and he looked surprised, “Hey now, no need to get defensive. You’ve just been taking her contracts more than anyone else, I’ve noticed.”  
Aela had instructed Sorri not to tell anyone about their private war against the Silver Hand, so she said nothing.  
“Come. Relax, for just a moment.” He insisted.  
She swallowed, but finally nodded and went to the porch with him.  
He handed her a wine bottle, which she greatly appreciated. He himself grabbed a bottle of mead.  
Sorri looked out in the training yard, blankly.   
“How have you been holding up, after Skjor’s death?” he asked bluntly.  
She glanced at him, “About as well as expected, I guess.” She wondered why he was asking her.  
“Skjor was a good man. I’m sorry you had to be there to witness his fire going out. But his spirit remains amongst the fiercest warriors the Companions have ever seen.” Vilkas said, “A hard man, but a good one.”  
She saw him look around. It was just them on the porch, and only Athis remained training in the yard.  
“And how has it been with the blood?”  
“I-” her voice cracked, “I don’t know. It feels good when I’m in that form, but afterwards…the pain, the restless nights. It’s hard. I don’t know how you stand it.”  
Vilkas sighed, “I've enjoyed the boons that come with beastblood. Just like every member of the Circle. Kodlak is right, though. We've given a piece of our souls for this power. I know my mythic histories. Bargains like that lead to ruin. This is a curse that was laid upon us. That much is clear.”  
“A curse?” she asked, and he nodded.   
“This isn’t who the Companions should be.”  
She thought for a moment, “Then who should they be? What do we mean to you? Why did you join?”  
He let out a long sigh, “To hear Farkas tell it, our father raised us here as happy pups, running around biting knees. I love my brother, but his brains are not his strong suit. We were brought here by Jergen. Whether he was our father or not, I don't care. He left to fight in the Great War and never came back. So he's not my problem anymore. We've been here as long as either of us can remember, though.” He let out a small smile, “So try to show some respect.”  
“I can’t imagine growing up here,” she said, looking around, “But I suppose it’s truly home, then.”  
Aela came outside, looking up at the sun.   
Sorri glanced over at the platters of food left out. A side of venison caught her eye, and her stomach grumbled. The raw meat was the only things she had cravings for anymore. She couldn’t even eat some of the sweet foods she used to love.   
Aela caught her glance, and smiled and turned to Vilkas, “This one is a born hunter, you should see her.”  
Vilkas glowered, “I can’t believe you turned her behind Kodlak’s back.”  
Aela shook her head, “I was her forbearer. I made that decision. You should see her in action.”  
Aela smiled and Sorri once more, before heading back inside. Vilkas let out a hmph.   
Vilkas drank more of his mead, and Sorri realized her wine was untouched. She didn’t want to be rude, but she wasn’t in the mood. She stealthily placed down the wine, and folded her hands in her lap.  
“And what about you?” he finally asked.  
“What?” she turned back to him.  
He gestured with his bottle, “Farkas and I joined up with Jergen. We have no other family, no other home. Everyone here is here because they don’t have another family to go to. For all of us, this is our family. Whether through blood or shield. What about you?”  
Sorri sighed, and looked back out at the yard, “I have a family, I guess. Brothers and sisters, a father. Back in Daggerfall. I love them-don’t get me wrong.”  
“But I haven’t seen you ever write a letter back home.” Vilkas pointed out.  
“No, I haven’t. I should.” She said, partly to herself, “But he didn’t…they didn’t seem to care that I was leaving. I was a grown woman, who could do what I wanted. And what I didn’t want was to be part of their business. I never wanted to be a merchant, or a mage.”  
She laughed, almost bitterly, “That’s what really got them. I don’t have a lick of magical talent, the only one in the family. I could never talk my way out of things like my siblings could, never had a mind for numbers. I could work the forge pretty well, but never well enough to make a business out of it. A decent cook, but same reasons as the blacksmith. I just didn’t…fit in.”  
Before she could stop herself, the words poured out, “And I liked books, but only fictional books that never mattered. And I could never write anything myself. Good at playing the flute, but I could never sing in front of a crowd. I was never good enough.”  
She crossed her arms, and shook her head. A deep settled sadness rooted deep inside her.   
She swallowed hard, and refused to look at Vilkas, “But here-it was okay. I may not be the best fighter, but I’m learning. I’m not the strongest, or the fastest, but that’s okay. I can go with someone who is. I’m not good enough-but I never feel like that’s a bad thing, like at home. There’s nothing I need to prove anymore…I-”  
She faltered, feeling something lift inside her, “There’s nothing I need to prove anymore.”  
She glanced at Vilkas, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with my problems, I-”  
“Now what kind of brother would I be if I didn’t listen. If you ever need anything-a word, advice, an ear, I’m here.” He said with a smile.  
Sorri looked up at the sky, and felt her face soften into a smile.


	13. Chapter 13

The next two weeks went by in a blur. Sorri and Aela were still raging their war against the Silver Hand, and Sorri had returned with two more fragments of Wuuthrad. The set was almost complete, and it made her swell with pride to see them up there.  
“Why are they after Wuuthrad in the first place?” she asked Aela.  
Aela shook her head, “They are Nords, like us…like most of the Companions, I mean. It is common knowledge that we hold many of the pieces. They are good for baiting us, while also assembling a collection of an ancient artifact. One of their leaders used to be a Companion. But once he got wind of our true power, he left. He joined with a group of monster hunters, and they became the Silver Hand. But their original purpose has been lost to the wind-they are just bandits with a preference for werewolf killing. And they deserve no mercy.”  
Sorri kept that mind while tearing them apart.  
It was nearing evening, and Sorri was preparing for a trip to Eastmarch in the morning to deal with a group of Silver Hand. She was sitting in the dining hall, her foot tapping against the side of her chair. She was trying to read, but the noise was too much.   
The smell of food enticed her, but she wanted to be out-hunting for fresh meat that she could eat in private. The longer the spent as a werewolf, the more she wanted to stay in that form.   
She made to get up, and let out a groan. Her muscles were aching, and her head pounded. She wondered for how much longer it would take until she was used to the pain of being a wolf.  
Finally getting to her feet, she walked over to the dining table, resting her hip along the side. Some of the Companions were discussing who was the best fighter among them.  
“I could take all of you in single combat if you gave me a sharp blade,” Athis said with confidence.  
“Nah, I could take ya-maybe with a couple extra drinks.” Tovar said, raising his flagon.  
“You’re not even that good of a fighter when you’re sober.” Athis said with a laugh.  
“It’s the drink that makes me so talented,” Torvar said with a smirk.  
“Or so stupid…” Athis muttered.  
“Ha! Please,” Njada drawled, “I could take anyone here-right now. Anyone up for a challenge?”  
There was noncommittal muttering from the group, and Njada’s eyes met Sorri’s.   
“What about you, Breton?” she snapped, “Up for a little challenge?”  
Sorri shook her head, and turned away, “No thanks. Not in the mood.”  
She could hear Njada’s goading laughter, “What, too scared?”  
“I never said that.” Sorri whipped around, but then realized she had given Njada exactly what she wanted.  
Sorri turned away again, going to grab her book and head down to the Living Quarters.  
“I guess you’re just too wimpy-and you know that I’d win.” She heard the taunts, but she kept walking.   
“Oh, so are you so high and mighty in the Circle that you don’t even have time for a friendly little brawl?” Njada sneered.  
Sorri finally turned, looking at the Nord. She smirked, and crossed her arms, eyebrow raised at Sorri.  
“You gotta a problem with that, Njada?” Sorri asked, marching back there.  
She rolled her eyes, “I’m still trying to figure out why they let you in in the first place. You’re no fighter. You ain’t even a Nord. ”  
Sorri crossed her arms, “I think there are plenty here who would say otherwise.”  
Njada snorted, “If the Circle vouches for you, I'm sworn to respect their judgment. But that doesn't mean I like it.” She moved closer, and lowered her voice so only Sorri could hear, “I’ve been here way longer than you, and you’re the one they choose the promote? It would’ve been my choice, that’s for damn sure. If I had been with them that night, maybe Skjor would still be alive.”  
That did it.  
That rage filled Sorri up again. Primal, seething. It bubbled to the surface, and she could feel tears sting at her eyes. But she forced them back-she didn’t want to give Njada the satisfaction.  
“Alright-you’re on.” Sorri snapped.  
You think you can take me on? Prove it. A hundred gold says I knock your sorry hide to the ground.” Njada smirked.  
Sorri nodded, and swung past her. Torvar tossed her a Nordic ale, and she uncorked it. Taking a big swig, the bitter taste filled her mouth. But she didn’t sputter or complain. It was good. For extra effect, she slammed the bottle back down on the table, inciting some cheering from the other Companions.  
“Careful-they call her ‘Stonearm’ for a reason,” murmured Ria.  
Sorri looked at Njada, who had moved into position, a cocky grin plastered on her face.  
She stepped up, and raised her arms.  
“Alright, we’re doing this the ol’fashioned way. No tricks, no healing, no fancy magics either.” Njada told her.  
And they were off. The others quickly crowded around, forming a ring, and shouting encouragement or jeers.  
Njada immediately lunched forwards, and hit Sorri right in the face. She could feel blood spurt from her nose, and felt it dripping down. She wiped it away, and began to circle.   
Njada wasn’t anything like Vilkas. She was impulsive, and rowdy. She charged at every opportunity, while Sorri just barely managed to dodge out of the way.  
“Fight back!” shouted Athis from the side.  
Njada swung, and Sorri ducked, and grabbed her arm. Njada shrugged her off, and landed another punch to Sorri’s jaw. She went flying backwards, and caught herself just in time.  
While she was down, Njada was on her instantly, and hit her again. Sorri was almost done, and was starting to feel dizzy. From the punches or the alcohol, she wasn’t certain.   
Sorri moved back into the area, keeping light on her feet. Njada was an expert blocker, but she didn’t have her shield. She was heavier than Sorri was, with more muscles than the Breton could ever dream of having. Sorri was lighter, and quicker on her feet.  
Breathe. Breathe.   
She moved quickly, moving at the last moment to throw Njada off balance. She was hoping to tire her out before attacking back. Surely she couldn’t fight like that forever.  
And it did work. Njada’s swings became slower, and she was breathing pretty hard. Sorri circled around her quickly, hoping to make her dizzy.  
“Get over here!” Njada snarled, lunching for her, but Sorri took a few quick steps back, and gave her a wide grin.  
“This isn’t some sort of dance!” Njada snapped, “You can’t keep running forever, eventually you’ll have to-ugh!”  
Sorri hit her with a solid punch, and then immediately winced and held her tender knuckles. Her hand probably hurt more than Njada did.  
Njada spat at the ground, glaring at Sorri, “Alright, I’ve had enough of you.”  
She charged forwards, and Sorri ducked, and then punched her in the jaw from beneath. Njada reeled, and Sorri attacked with her other hand.   
Even after those few actions, she was already exhausted.   
She only had the energy for a little bit longer, and needed to end the brawl fast. When Njada attacked again, Sorri got her once last time, and Njada fell to her knees.  
The Nord cleared her throat, and shook her head, “Fine, fine! You win, alright?”  
Sorri could hear the sounds of clapping and cheering, but her ears were ringing. She offered Njada a hand up. She glared at it for a moment, before taking it.  
“Don’t think this makes us friends now,” she snarled, and Sorri just grinned.  
Njada shook her head as she walked off, “I need a drink…”  
Sorri called after her, “Oh, Njada?”  
“What!?”  
“I’ll be taking that hundred gold,” Sorri told her, folding her arms.  
Njada rolled her eyes, and tossed her a coin purse, which Sorri caught.  
Now finally able to return to Nirn, she looked around, to find Ria smiled and laughing, grabbing her hand. Torvar slapped her on the back, and offered her another drink.  
When she looked up, she saw some of the other circle member watching in amusement.   
She caught Farkas’ eye, and he smiled at her, before looking hurriedly away again. He kept doing that, but she didn’t understand why. Or understand the odd feeling she got whenever she looked or spoke to him.  
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it, a drink was in her hand, and words floating around her.  
She would enjoy that night.


	14. Chapter 14

During Sorri’s time running contracts for Aela, she would vary her time spent in Jorrvaskr. Whenever she was in the Hall, she always found time to talk to Farkas. And whether it was a long, deep conversation that turned hours into minutes, or a brief exchange in the hallways in passing, she loved them all.  
Farkas downplayed himself whenever he could. When he launched on a tangent, he would always end it, embarrassed, saying his brother would be the one to talk to-Vilkas had more eloquence. But that never mattered to Sorri.  
Sometimes, she would bring him gifts that she found while out in the world, just a few simple things. A bottle of Black-Briar reserve she had received as an extra payment on a contract, a couple of sweets, or sometimes just a story.   
He would return them in kind, bringing back pretty gems he had found while in a dungeon, or an interesting book he had picked up.  
It was dark out, and after a long day, Sorri was resting in the Living Quarters. She had taken off her armor and weapons, and was staring at the ceiling. She wanted a restful sleep, but wasn’t likely to get it.   
Sorri was contemplating whether she should head out to hunt with Aela as a werewolf, but decided she was exhausted.  
She heard footsteps nearing the door, and wearily lifted her head to see who it was.   
Farkas was standing at the doorway, and she immediately raised up, a bright smile on her face. The sudden lift caused her head to throb in protest.  
“Hey,” his soft voice said.  
“Hey,” she smiled back.  
He looked around, a little awkward, “I just wanted to see if you were alright-you seemed pretty hurt after you came back from that last contract.”  
“It was a hairy fight, but hey, at least I came back alive.” She said with a grim smile.  
“That, I am glad of.” Farkas said.  
She could feel heat rise in her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. Sorri got to her feet, and made her way over, leaning against the doorway. She looked up at him, and fiddled with a loose strap on his armor, putting it back in place.  
“I liked that book you gave me, thank you.” She told him, meeting his eyes.  
His face softened, “Which one, ‘A Dance in Fire’?”  
She nodded enthusiastically, “I’ve been looking for the rest of the volumes, I’ve found 3 and 5, but I’m still missing the rest. I’ve asked Belethor down in the Plains District to keep an eye out for them.”  
“I’ll see if I come across anymore,” Farkas promised, and she beamed.  
She hummed softly, tugging at the ends of her hair. It was growing in, slowly making its way down to her shoulder. She had decided to let it grow out, instead of keeping it so short.  
“You really like to read, don’t you?” he asked her, and she nodded.  
“Always have. There are so many stories out there, to be heard or read. To be told-and I’ve never seen so many of these books in Skyrim. High Rock has a-different taste in literature.” Sorri told him.  
“You’re like my brother then, Vilkas always liked his books. But usually factual or historical.” Farkas mused.  
Sorri smiled, without even knowing why, “And I love hearing people tell stories as well. Back in Daggerfall, many bards there would be storytellers as well as singers.”  
“Ever thought of being a Bard?” Farkas asked curiously.  
Sorri laughed, “Oh, maybe when I was little. I can play the flute rather well, but I’m not a very good singer.”  
“I’d love to hear you someday,” Farkas said, and she turned beet red.  
“What about you?” she asked, “Are you much one for bards and singing?”  
To her surprise, he looked down, biting his lip, “Well, I do know how to play the lute-I’ve got on in my room. Playing has always been something I’ve enjoyed.”  
“Can I hear?” she asked, wide-eyed.  
“I-”  
“Oh, please!” she grabbed his arm, looking up with soft eyes.  
He let out a sigh, and motioned with his head for her to follow. She quickly fell in step with him as they made their way to his room.  
Once there, she took a seat on his bed, and he sat beside her, grabbing the lute. It was a pretty thing, with intricate designs she had never seen before.  
He glanced up, biting his lip. She smiled encouragingly, and he looked down at the strings.  
His hands, although rough and bruised by the many battles he had been in, stroked the strings with such gentleness. The music he made was nothing like she had heard before, and suddenly she was lost in the melody.   
When he finished, she opened her eyes, almost disappointed, “That was beautiful,” she told him earnestly.  
He blushed, and placed his lute away.  
They were sitting closer, so close that their knees brushed against each other. Sorri tucked her hair behind her ear, sneaking glances at him.   
She glanced around the room, seeing only a few books in and around the room, “You mentioned Vilkas liked to read, what about you?”  
“I’ve never been really interested in the actual reading part. The words can be hard to understand sometimes, they…switch, and I don’t see them the same way Vilkas does. And it’s hard for me to read things out loud.”  
She nodded understandingly, and rubbed her leg absentmindedly.   
Farkas moved a little closer, and his arm wrapped around the side. It was an offer-Sorri could move in, and be held. She felt her heart flutter, as she glanced at his arm.   
She was about to, before changing her mind, and slipping off the bed. She landed on the floor, and knelt before the lute.   
Farkas moved his hand back to his lap, and watched her as she studied it.  
She appreciated the gesture-but she wasn’t sure if she was ready yet.  
“This lute-it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Where did you get it?” Sorri asked, looking at the carvings.   
“Jergen made it for me, before he left to fight in the War. That was…a long time ago.” Farkas told her.  
“Do you miss him?” she asked, staring at the lute.  
“Sometimes. But I hardly remember him somedays. It’s hard to picture his face. We were so young when he left. But we’ve had others to take that role, I suppose.” Farkas pondered, “What about you? Do you miss your family?”  
“Sometimes.” She said with a small smile, looking back at him, “I miss ma, a lot. I miss…I don’t know, the good moments I had with my family? The happy moments. But-when I’m here, I know that I’ve found my family.”  
She saw Farkas smile, and she rose to her feet.   
“Well, thank you for playing for me.” She told him, and he smiled gently.  
She lingered in the doorway for a moment, before taking one glance at him. His dark hair was pushed back from his face, and he was watching her. She gave him one last smile, before turning to go.


	15. Chapter 15

A week later, Sorri returned to Jorrvaskr with the news of the destruction of yet another group of Silver Hand. Aela was waiting for her by the door as usual.   
“It’s done,” Sorri told her.  
Aela nodded, “Excellent. Looks like you've really driven them into hiding. Keep this up. We'll wipe them out, yet.”  
Sorri glanced around, “Is there any more work to be done?”   
Aela sighed, “I fear that Kodlak's gotten wind of our recent efforts. He's asked to see you. My advice? Always be honest with the old man, but don't tell him anything he doesn't need to know.”  
Sorri nodded, wringing her hands together. Aela walked away, back to training out in the yard.  
So the Breton walked down to the Living Quarters, and eventually to Kodlak’s room on her own.  
Kodlak was there, waiting for her. He had a kind face, but there was a strength to it, despite his age. Sorri had no trouble believing he was once a fierce warrior.  
He nodded his head at the seat across from him, the same one Vilkas had been sitting in when she first joined up. She sat, looking at him, feeling her heart rate quicken. She didn’t know how much he knew, and what he thought of her and Aela’s actions. She never wanted to dishonor the Companions.   
“I hear you’ve been busy of late.” Kodlak said, watching her intently.  
Sorri swallowed, “I-Aela and I have been working to avenge Skjor’s death.” She said before she could stop herself. She could never bring herself to lie or deceive the man.  
Kodlak sighed, “Your hearts are full of grief, and my own weeps at the loss of Skjor. But his death was avenged long ago. You have taken more lives than honor demanded. The cycle of retaliation may continue for some time.”  
Sorri nodded, feeling a sense of guilt she hadn’t before. Brigands as the Silver Hand were, she had been intent on wiping them out. But perhaps they would just try harder to kill the Companions because of her actions.  
“In any case, I have a task for you,” Kodlak admitted.  
“What is it?” she asked, looked up.  
“Have you heard the story of how we came to be werewolves?” he asked.  
She thought back, remembering hearing two different accounts, “Vilkas said it was a curse, from the ancient Companions.”  
“The boy has a nugget of truth, but the reality is more complicated than that. It always is.” Kodlak continued,   
“So, what is the truth then?” she asked.  
“The Companions are nearly five thousand years old.” Kodlak elaborated, “This matter of beastblood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good, but short-sighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If the Companions would hunt in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power.”  
“And they became werewolves?” Sorri prompted.  
Kodlak nodded, “They did not believe the change would be permanent. The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But we had been deceived.”  
Sorri thought on that, “But…aren’t you more powerful now?”  
“The witches didn't lie, of course. But it's more than our bodies.” He explained, “The disease, you see, affects not just our bodies. It seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. They want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity. And that is their choice. But I am still a true Nord. And I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home.”  
She nodded, “Is there a way to cure yourself?”  
“That's what I've spent my twilight years trying to find out. And now I've found the answer. The witches' magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us. They won't give it willingly, but we can extract their foul powers by force. I want you to seek them out.” Kodlak met her eyes, “Go to their coven in the wilderness. Strike them down as a true warrior of the wild. And bring me their heads. The seat of their abilities. From there, we may begin to undo centuries of impurity.”  
Sorri bit her lip, “Am I to do this alone?”  
Kodlak gave a solemn nod, “You shall have no Shield-Brother this time. But the spirit of Ysgramor goes with you, to restore the honor of his legacy.”  
She rose to her feet, and bowed her head in respect.  
“Talos guide you, lass.” He said, and she left the room.

 

Sorri was packing her stuff for the journey, having location the coven on her map. She put on her armor and weapons, and was ready for a journey.  
As she was about to leave, she passed by Farkas in the Living Quarters.  
“And where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked, smiling.  
“I’ve got a task, from Kodlak. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.” She promised, she brushed a hand against his arm, “Don’t worry.”  
She turned to go.   
“Hey, Sorri-” he said quickly, and then his face flushed.  
She turned, and smiled, “What is it?”  
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…or ask you, or-” he sputtered, “Over the past months, I’ve realized that-oh.”  
She had cut him off, grabbing his hands. Then, having to stand on her tiptoes, she kissed him.  
When she pulled back, she saw the look of bemusement on his face, and felt her face turn bright red. Had she misinterpreted him?   
But Farkas’ face soften, and looked down at her. They kissed again, this time, she wrapped her arms around him, and felt him do the same for her. The press of his body against hers made her feel safe.  
He cupped her face in his hand, brushed away the few loose strands of hair. Sorri rested her forehead against his chest.   
“Be safe,” he told her.  
She nodded, and he pulled away. They looked at each other again, and she could help but beam. He was smiling as well, and eyes sparkling. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel a warmth spread through her body.   
She wanted to stay there, stay with him. But she knew she had a job to do, for Kodlak. She grabbed his hands, and squeezed in softly, before pulling away, and heading up the stairs.   
It was time to find the witches, and free Kodlak’s soul. 

 

Sorri arrived in Falkreach, and made the way through the Pine Forest to the Gelnmoril Coven. As she approached, she noticed the signs of Hagravens around the area. Mounted heads on spikes, dead Spriggan’s, trails of blood.   
The closer she got to the entrance of the cave, she noticed that the plant life was all dead. Lit braziers marked the entrance, and she warily went inside.  
Sorri drew her weapon, and walked through the winding tunnel. She could hear scuttling up ahead, and felt her mouth grow dry and her heart pound.  
And there she was-a Glenmoril Witch. She looked like a Hagraven, but more terrible, more primal. Sorri charged in, and the witch let out a shriek.   
A blast of fire whizzed by Sorri, but she dodged, and wanted to move in closer. The witch struck out with her bestial claws, ripping into Sorri’s armor. Sorri gasped, but sent her flying with her hammer. The witch fell to the ground, dead.  
Sorri ran over, and with disgust, removed her head.  
Putting the witch head away, she knew she could leave then, but the temptation to rid Skyrim of the rest of the coven was too great. There were four tunnels leading off from the main cavern, and she was sure there was another witch and the end of all of them.  
So, she charged.  
The witches refused to go down easily. With clever tricks, magic, and sheer force, Sorri was hurting. They had clawed up her armor, and burnt the leather away. But she had claimed four heads of the Glenmoril Witches, and there was only one tunnel left to travel.  
The center tunnel she had left for last, and she was in a lot of pain. Her drive was no less, though. She wanted to finish it.   
The witch was waiting for her in the cavern, pruning her feathers. A waterfall rushed down, and she could hear the drip of the water coming from the ceiling.  
The witch looked up when she heard Sorri approach, and hissed. She summoned fire, and Sorri didn’t have enough time to dodge. The heat burnt her skin, and Sorri growled. She jumped off the ledge, and landed in the water. The witch came at her, and Sorri moved out of the way. But she was sluggish and tired from the other fights. The witch jumped her, and tore into her breast.  
Sorri screamed, and struggled to get her off. She caught the witches head in the hammer, and began to pull. The witch struggled and spat, until she pushed Sorri off.  
Sorri was on the ground, but tried to get to her feet. She blinked a few times, and saw that the witch had run off. She looked wildly around, and saw the witch was reaching for something. A red bottle filled with a strange liquid.  
Sorri charged, her hammer raised.  
The witch spun around, and splashed the liquid into Sorri face.  
And the Breton screamed.  
A wild burning sensation filled her eyes and face, and she crumpled. She desperately tried to wipe it away, but it worked fast. When she looked everything was turning blurry, and dark. She gripped her hammer, and eventually felt the witch grab on to her.  
In a single stroke, she bashed the witch, and heard her scrunch to the ground.   
Sorri ran to the waterfall, and splashed water in her face, trying to get whatever poison the witch had splashed on her off.  
But it was too late.  
Whatever that witch had done to her, she had lost her sight completely.   
She was blind.


	16. Chapter 16

By feeling the floor and the walls, and trying desperately to remember how she came in, Sorri eventually reached the outside.  
She felt the cool breeze on her, and remembered it slowly becoming dark when she had entered. It had to be night, then.  
She wasn’t that far from Falkreach, but there were no carriages from there. She hadn’t brought a horse, and she didn’t trust herself to make it all the way back to Whiterun without the use of her eyes.  
Hearing rustling in the leaves frightened her. Anything could be out there.  
She backed up against the wall, trying to listen for breathing or any other clues that would make her seem not alone.  
There was one way she could get back, but it would be a risk if she was heading towards civilization.  
But she didn’t have much of a choice.  
Under the light of the moon, she called upon her wolf spirit, almost frightened of how easily it came. Always, it was pounding to be released, and once she was a werewolf, how good she felt.  
Her sight didn’t magically return when she transformed, but as a werewolf, she could rely more on her other senses to get by.  
She grabbed her pack with the heads in it in her mouth, and started off.  
She was slow going, not breaking into a full sprint like she usually would. Using her howl, she could listen for the pounding of blood in the animals around her. To stay as a wolf long enough, she would need to feed.  
She tried to stay away from the thick trees, taking her chances along the main road. She felt the cobbled stones beneath her feet, and slowly broke into a run.  
Sorri wished she knew more about Skyrim, that she could use clues to figure out how close she was to her destination. But she would have to trust her instincts, and the few things she did remember about the Whiterun area. She had travelled along these same paths as a werewolf and a hunter before, so she hoped with all her heart she could find her way home.

 

A few hours later, Sorri could feel the beast blood begin to wear off. She felt a lurch, and stumbled to the ground, her body forming back into one of a girl.  
She landed on the grass and tundra of Whiterun, and felt the return of her body’s ache. She groaned, and sat up. She had fed as a wolf, but she just felt sick.  
She didn’t know how close she was to Whiterun, all she knew is that she was naked, like always when she was a wolf. That’s why her and Aela often went hunting together, while one could stay in human form and carry such necessities. Or placing their stuff away so they could grab it later. The thought of doing that didn’t cross her mind, and now she had nothing but her pack that held the witches’ heads.   
She shakily rose to her feet, taking a few steps. She walked forwards, until the grass beneath her feet were the stones of the road. She walked down, slowly. She was listening for movement or voices. Anything.  
And eventually, she did come across someone.  
“Hello?” a voice called. It was light and high, with a strong Nordic accent. A woman.  
Sorri heard footsteps, and the jangle of weaponry.   
“Please…’ Sorri reached out, “I need to get to Whiterun.”  
“By the Gods…” the woman muttered, and the footsteps came to a halt, “Aye, here. I’ve got a spare change of clothes on me. You take them. What in the name of the Nine are you doing out here with nothing on?”  
Sorri felt the press of clothes against her hand, and sat down to put them on.   
“How far are we from Whiterun?” Sorri asked.  
“It’s just there, can’t you…oh. Here, I’ll take you there, I’m a guard, ma’am.” Sorri reached up, and took the guard’s hand to get to her feet.  
The guard lead her through the streets, and Sorri could tell that they were climbing up. The voices of other guards could be heard.  
“Say, haven’t I seen you coming out of Jorrvaskr? Are you a Companion?” the guard asked.  
Sorri could feel wood beneath her feet, and then stone again. They were nearing the gates of Whiterun.  
“Yes, I am. Can you take me up there?” Sorri said.  
“Of course, ma’am. Right this way.”  
The sound of the gates of Whiterun opening, and then the smell from food stalls in the market.   
Sorri knew these streets, she had travelled them many times. She walked with more confidence, and thanked the guard, who let her on her way.  
Carefully, Sorri climbed up the steps to the Wind District, feeling out each step. She turned, and made her way up to the steps of Jorrvaskr.   
But something was wrong.  
There was a crowd mulling around the area, voices she recognized, and those she didn’t.   
She moved passed them, and tackled the steps once more.  
There was a stench in the air-blood and death. One she recognized from all those days fighting the Silver Hand. She could tell there was silver in the area from being a werewolf.  
She heard a cough that sounded familiar, “Aela?” she asked.  
“You’d better head inside-by the Gods, what happened to you?” Aela’s voice came from her right.  
“I-not now. What’s happened?” Sorri demanded.  
Aela was silent, but Torvar’s voice from her other side spoke.  
“The Silver Hand. They finally had the nerve to attack Jorrvaskr. We got most of them, but I think a few stragglers made it out.”  
Sorri chose to heed Aela’s advice. She finished climbing the steps, and found the door. She pushed it opened, and headed inside.  
And when she did, she knew something was wrong. Even more than outside. No cheering or celebrations on defeating the enemy. Just dead silence except for the crackling fire.  
“Where have you been?” snarled Vilkas’ voice from in front of her.  
“I was doing Kodlak’s bidding.” She said, her voice croaky.  
Vilkas’ voice was strained, “I hope it was important, because it means you weren’t here to defend him.”  
“No…” her voice was a whisper, and an icy hand gripped at her heart.   
“The Silver Hand.” Vilkas continued, “hey finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr. We fought them off, but…”  
His voice faltered, and she could feel her hands start shaking.  
“The old man…Kodlak…he’s dead.” He finished.  
She stepped back, losing her balance, she reached out, and found a wooden post to steady herself on. That couldn’t have happened, it couldn’t have.  
“Was…was anyone else hurt?” she managed to choke out, fearing for the rest of the Companions.  
“No. But they made off with all our fragments of Wuuthrad.” He told her.  
She felt the rage enter her heart again. She had worked for weeks recovering the last few pieces-to have everything ruined.  
“But I am going to reclaim them.” Vilkas continued  
“No, we are.” She corrected them.  
She heard him sigh, “We will bring the battle their chief camp. There will be none left living to tell their stories. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung. We will avenge Kodlak. And they will know terror before the end.”  
“Brother, I don’t think-” Farkas’ voice started up, but Sorri rushed to him.  
“Farkas?” she reached out, and found his hands. They closed on hers, and pulled her close.   
“Sorri, gods what happened to you?” he asked, and she felt his hand brushed against her cheek.  
“I sought out the Glenmoril Coven-the witches that placed this curse on the ancient Companions. With them dead, Kodlak hoped to free his spirit from the curse. But I guess...I guess I was too late.”  
She pressed her head against Farkas, hearing the steady pound of life in his chest.  
“The last one, she got me with some sort of poison. It burned my eyes, and now…” she didn’t need to finish.  
“Brother, Sorri cannot join you while she’s like this.”  
“No,” Sorri said, taking hold of Farkas’ hand, “I want to go. This isn’t about me, or even entirely about vengeance. I want to be Vilkas’ Shield-Sister. The last time a Companion faced a fort full of Silver Hand alone, I wasn’t there to protect him. I don’t want you to be like Skjor, Vilkas.”  
She didn’t know exactly where Vilkas was, so she just turned her head a little way from Farkas.   
“Put some armor on, and get a weapon.” Vilkas instructed, “Aela found their base, and we’re going to wipe them out.”  
Sorri turned to the direction of his voice, “I don’t need weapons or armor to fight. How do you think I got back here?”   
She heard him sigh, “Alright, I’ve got a horse in the stables. Just stay close.”  
She gripped Farkas’ hand once more, and reached up. She traced a finger along his jaw line, and felt as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.   
“We’ll be back,” she whispered.  
She pulled away, and placed a hand on Vilkas’ shoulder to guide herself, and the two left Jorrvaskr.


	17. Chapter 17

They were riding through the snow. She was sitting in the front, holding onto the mane of the horse, feeling the snowflakes fall against her skin. Vilkas was sitting behind her, guiding the horse.  
“Are we getting close?” she asked him, the sharp breeze picking up.  
It was freezing, colder than she had ever felt before. The wind stung her skin, and she shivered. She wished she was wearing some of those furs she had spotted some Nords wearing before.   
But she was going to wear fur soon-in a way.  
She hoped her strength had built up enough so that she could transform into a werewolf again. It was a slow process, but she thought she could do it.  
“Just a little longer, we’re going to make them pay,” he snarled.  
The sounds of the horse’s hooves hitting the snow, and the gentle rhythm they eased into on horseback relaxed her beating heart.  
She hadn’t gotten used to living in a world without her sight, but she was confident enough with Vilkas by her side, and her strength as a wolf.  
It was so cold, she could only imagine they were near Winterhold, as the temperatures up there were the coldest she could imagine.  
“Alright, get off. We’re here.” Vilkas said, and she felt them come to a stop.  
He helped her down, and she felt the cold press of a snow bank beneath her shoes.   
She heard Vilkas draw her weapon, and she followed his crunching footsteps.  
“Lookee here, looks like we got ourselves a pair of heroes.” Snapped a voice from in front of her.  
An arrow whizzed by her ear, and she could feel the sharp sting of where it had nicked.   
There were more than just the one who spoke, she could hear other footsteps joined Vilkas’ in the snow, and the clashing of fighting.  
So it was then she transformed.   
As a wolf, she was powerful, and she launched herself upon any of the Silver Hand she could find. The footsteps, the cries, and jangle of weaponry-all things that helped her find them.  
They cleared the Silver Hand from the inside, and Vilkas lead to inside the fort.  
Sorri snarled, and pawed at the ground. She tried smelling for some, and could detect a few up ahead. She barreled off, hearing Vilkas follow behind.

She surprised herself on how easy it was to defeat them. Not the powerfulness in being a werewolf, but morally. Kodlak’s words came back to her.  
‘You have taken more lives than honor demanded.’  
But how many lives were the right amount? The Silver Hand had attacked Jorrvaskr, everyone she knew and loved, and killed Kodlak. She knew he wasn’t one for vengeance, but this was more than that, wasn’t it?  
But as a werewolf, she grew stronger with every bite, every kill. She had gotten so used to, so comfortable as a wolf. Even without use of her eyes, she could hunt and destroy the Silver Hand.  
Their weapons burned her, to be sure. Every hit was agony, but when she got rid of them, it made it so much better.  
The scent of silver and blood was on the wind, and she charged through the Fort.  
Vilkas was fighting, with fury in his voice. He had taken down as many as her, even if he was still as a human.   
Once, he was surrounded by four of them, and she charged in, and saved his life. Later, his unmatched skill saved her own skin when she was getting tired.  
They passed the remains of other dead werewolves, and Sorri could feel the return of her spark of anger. The scent of blood and metal, and she could tell it was a torture room.  
The desire to wipe out the Silver Hand completely consumed her-they were bandits, that’s all. Low life’s and ruffians that did not deserve mercy.   
They came to the last room, and she could tell that there were a lot in there.  
“Those bastards are going to regret raising their weapons against Jorrvaskr.” Vilkas muttered, and pushed open the door.  
Sorri charged in, launching herself on the first Silver Hand she found. An arrow struck her shoulder, and she flinched back. Vilkas charged it, and began fighting with two others. She whirled around, trying to hear their approach.  
One of them struck her in the side, and she howled. She struck out, and swiped him away. Another arrow pierced her, and she winced. Judging by how it hit her, she sprinted over and found the archer, and took care of her.  
Vilkas finished off the two he was fighting, but she could smell his blood. He was injured, and badly.  
One last Silver Hand-possibly the last Silver Hand in all of Skyrim.  
He ran up to Sorri, and stabbed her. The blade entered her torso, and she let out a shriek. She heard Vilkas clash with him, but then Vilkas landed heavy on the ground.   
The Silver Hand was advancing on her, and she struggled to get on her paws.   
“You’re dead, werewolf scum,” he spat.  
But she raised her head, and chomped down, grabbing him in her mouth. She shook him around, before sending him flying against the wall. She heard a crunch, and knew he was dead.  
She was lying on her side, feeling as she bled out. Her energy depleted, and the transformation back to a human started.  
And soon she was Sorri again, lying on the cold, stone floor of a now empty fort.  
“Here…” Vilkas came up to her, “Here. I’ve got clothes and some potions for you.”  
She reached out, taking the clothes. She put them on, but moving was painful. The wound was still large and scarily deep.  
“Drink,” he instructed, and she took the potion bottle he handed her. She felt it with her hands, before pouring it into her mouth.  
A sweet, pleasing, frothy taste filled her. She warm, and happy after drinking the potion. Like everything was okay.  
The wound began healing up, but when she traced it, she felt a scar in its place. She had gotten many scars after joining the Companions, but none quite like that.  
“Can you move?” Vilkas asked.  
“Yes, just-give me a hand.” Sorri told him.  
He helped her up, and she walked shakily. The pain was back, as throbbing as ever. She wondered how they had born it, all those years of being a werewolf.  
She found the table in the center of the room.  
“The fragments are there,” Vilkas said, and she found them.  
She put them in her bag, and carried them with her.  
She took his arm, and they walked back to the entrance of the fort, where the cold bit into her cheeks. She could hear their horse up ahead, and stroked him.  
She got up, and Vilkas got behind her.  
“Let's get back to Jorrvaskr. We'll want to pay our respects to Kodlak's spirit,” he said, guiding the horse back to Whiterun.  
“The Silver Hand are gone then, all of them.” She muttered.  
“They’ll never harm one of our own again,” Vilkas promised.  
As they started off, away from the fort, she could hear him breathing heavily. She knew he was still injured, but she didn’t know how badly.  
“Sorri?”   
“Yes?”  
“Perhaps this isn’t the best time, but I just wanted to tell you-I know how much my brother cares for you. Just take care of him, alright?”  
“You know I will,” she promised, smiling gently.  
And they rode on, in silence. Sorri had time to take in her thoughts.   
The winds and snow were cold, but nothing was worse than the feeling inside her that had persisted after Kodlak’s death. Had they done the right thing in that fort? Was that level of vengeance necessary? She didn’t know, and the feelings of guilt crept back in her. The Companions were supposed to be upstanding warriors, helping those who could not help themselves. But what happened when it went too far? What separated them from the common mercenary? Was it nothing? She hoped not-she hoped there was more honor and glory to it.  
But she couldn’t help the feeling of righteousness that Kodlak was avenged. But his spirit would be claimed by Hircine and his hunting grounds, not by Sovngarde like he wanted. She wondered if there was still a way to set things right.


	18. Chapter 18

When they returned the Whiterun, they walked up the steps together. Vilkas spoke as they walked, “We did well today, Shield-Sister. The others have probably prepared Kodlak's funeral by now. Let's go up to the Skyforge to pay our respects.”  
Sorri followed. It was late, the could feel the cool breeze of night. The streets weren’t busy or as loud as they were during the day. She could not feel the warmth of the sun on her skin.  
When they reached Jorrvaskr, they turned, and headed up to the Skyforge. Many people were there, standing and waiting. The cackling of the fire told her that Kodlak’s funeral pyre had been lit on the Skyforge itself, with Kodlak in the center.  
She took her place on the side, waiting.  
“Who will start?” asked the voice of Eorlund.  
Aela replied, “I’ll do it.”  
“Before the Ancient flame…” her voice ran out, piercing the night.  
“We grieve,” everyone responded.  
Eorlund spoke, “At this loss…”  
“We weep,”  
“For the fallen…” Vilkas continued.  
“We shout,”  
“And for ourselves…” Farkas finished.  
“We take out leave,”  
The smell of smoke and fire, and Kodlak’s body was being sent off, the ancient way.  
Aela’s voice came once more, “His spirit is departed. Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together.”  
Sorri bowed her head. She wished she had gotten her job done faster with the witches. Maybe then she could have saved Kodlak, both in life and in spirit.  
“Lass,” Eorlund was standing in front of her.  
She was silent, the feelings of guilt and of sorrow still present and painful.  
“Do you have the fragments of Wuuthrad, still? I'll need to prepare them for mounting again.” His asked.  
Sorri swung off her pack, where the fragments were held, “Here-just take them,” she said bitterly.  
“Careful with those.” He said sharply “Don't want even more fragments, do we?”  
She bit her lip, still feeling upset.  
She heard him sigh, “Of course, I have a small favor to ask of you. There's another piece, that Kodlak always kept close to himself. Would you go to his chambers and bring it back for me? I'm not sure I'm the best one to go through his things.”  
“Of course-I…it’s an honor.” She responded.  
“Thank you, I’ll be here, girl.”  
She traversed back down the stairs, and back into Jorrvaskr. It was so quiet, with all the Companions still mourning Kodlak at the Skyforge. The place was empty.  
The crackling fire was the only noise, and the soft carpets felt familiar against her feet.  
She made her way down to the living quarters, and to the Harbinger’s bedroom.   
There would need to be a new Harbinger named, but she wasn’t familiar with the process. She had assumed, as did many, that Skjor would take Kodlak’s place should it ever come to that. But they were both passed now, both gone. Leaving the Companions without of Harbinger.  
She pushed opened the wooden door, and feelings of sadness returning. The room was as she remembered it. Why hadn’t she cherished those last moments with Kodlak? She wished she had more time to learn and grow form him, and appreciated the moments that she did have with him.  
She went into the bedroom, and felt for his dresser. She opened it up, and found two things. One was the fragment of Wuuthrad she was looking for, and the other, a small leather-bound book. By the smell of the feel, it seemed like a journal.  
Kodlak’s journal.  
She placed it back, but kept it in mind.   
Sorri stopped by her room, and grabbed a few of her belongings. A few set of hide armor, and her spare war hammer. Now well equipped, she felt better.   
She returned to the Skyforge, and found Eorlund once again.  
“I have the fragment,” she held it out for him to take.  
“Thank you.” He said, “Your Shield-Siblings have withdrawn to the Underforge. I think they're waiting for you.”  
She went down, and went into the Underforge. When she stepped in, it seemed that they were having an argument.  
“The old man had one wish before he died. And he didn't get it. It's as simple as that.” Vilkas snapped.   
Aela sighed, |Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you might think, Vilkas.”  
“That's fine for you. But he wanted to be clean.” He protested, “He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. But all that was taken from him.”  
“And you avenged him.” She pointed out,  
“Kodlak did not care for vengeance.” Farkas interjected.   
Vilkas continued, “No, Farkas, he didn't. And that's not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood.”  
Aela was quiet for a moment before speaking again, “You're right. It's what he wanted, and he deserved to have it.”  
“Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death. You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor.”  
“There the souls of the Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel.” Aela said, “But we can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years.”  
From behind Sorri, another stepped into the Underforge, their footsteps heavy.  
“And dragons were just stories.” Eorlund boomed, “And the elves once ruled Skyrim. Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be. The blade is a weapon. A tool. Tools are meant to be broken. And repaired.”  
“Is that…did you repair the blade?” Vilkas asked in astonishment.  
Wuuthrad? Repaired? Sorri could hardly believe it.  
Eorlund continued, “This is the first time I've had all the pieces, thanks to Sorri here. 'The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered.' The flames of Kodlak shall fuel the rebirth of Wuuthrad. And now it will take you to meet him once more.”  
She felt a shiver run down her spine, and heard the blacksmith approach her.  
“As the one who bore the fragments, I think you should be the one to carry Wuuthrad into battle.” He said, and he pressed the battle axe into her hands.  
The weight was heavy, but she stood tall.   
“The rest of you, prepare to journey to the Tomb of Ysgramor. For Kodlak.” He said.  
“For Kodlak!” the rest of them chorused, and they left the Underforge.


	19. Chapter 19

Sorri didn’t know how long the journey took. They passed through Whiterun, heading north to Winterhold. Snow, wind, rain, nothing stopped them. The four Companions travelled throughout Skyrim for hours, for the glory of Kodlak.  
Carrying Wuuthrad, she felt honored. Living in High Rock, she had never really thought about Ysgramor and what he meant. But holding his weapon-she may not have been a Nord, but she was proud to carry on his legacy.  
She followed in Aela’s footsteps, quite literally through the snow. She could follow the sounds, and she had the rest of her Companions behind her as well.  
When they finally arrived at Ysgramor’s Tomb, it was the coldest part of Skyrim. The snow was so deep she had to wade through it.   
They made their way into the burial crypt, and Sorri traced her hands against the walls to guide herself down.  
She heard Aela and Farkas move on ahead, and felt Vilkas come up beside her.  
“So this is the tomb?” she asked.  
“This is the resting place of Ysgramor. And his most trusted generals. You should be cautious.” He replied.  
“Are you expecting trouble?” she asked him.  
“The original Companions. Their finest warriors rest with Ysgramor. You'll have to prove yourselves to them.” He elaborated, “It's not that you're intruding. I'd wager they've actually expected us. They just want to be sure that you're worthy. Be ready for an honorable battle.”  
She could feel no draft from ahead, and she realized the way was shut.  
“How do we get in?”  
“Return Wuuthrad to Ysgramor. It should open the way.” Vilkas said.  
He guided her up a few steps. She felt it, a statue to monument Ysgramor in his glory. Sorri placed Wuuthrad in his hands, and could hear the sliding of the stone opening up a path.  
“Good luck,” Vilkas said.  
“Are you not coming?” she questioned.  
“No, I-Kodlak was right. I let vengeance rule my heart. I regret nothing of what we did at that Fort. But I can't go any further with my mind fogged or my heart grieved.”  
She reached out, and found his shoulder, “I understand. We’ll be back soon.”  
She stepped forwards, drawing her own hammer once more.  
“Can you fight?” Aela asked, coming up beside her, “Don’t you want to transform?”  
“No.” Sorri said, “I will fight in this form-I do not think the ancient Companions will respect me if I fight as a werewolf. I fight as I am now, or I don’t fight at all.”  
Aela was silent, but Sorri pressed on. Farkas and Aela followed behind.  
She could hear movement, and squeaking. Skeevers. She swung in their direction, and heard them die.  
They moved on through the crypt, and Sorri kept her ears out for the sound of any movement.  
Suddenly, she could hear a sharp shrill pierce the air, and she charged towards it. The air turned cold, like the warmth had been drained out of it.   
Ghosts, she thought.  
The three Companions took care of them quickly. Sorri almost liked fighting in such a way, she could remember all the things she had learned, and focused on that without distractions.  
Aela and Farkas helped, calling out where the ghosts were as they fought so she could help.  
They moved on, passing down a stair well. She moved cautiously, tracing on hand against the wall to steady her.  
She could hear a creeping crawling sound up ahead, and could feel them pass through webs. She shuddered.  
“Sorri,” Farkas called.  
She stopped, and felt his approach.  
“I can go no further,” his voice was heavy and sad.  
“Why?” she questioned, reaching to find his hand.  
“Ever since Dustman’s Cairn, the big crawly ones have been too much for me. Everyone has his weakness, and this one is mine. I’m not proud, but I will stay back with Vilkas.” He kissed the top of her head, “Give my regards to Ysgramor.”  
She felt him pull away, and she sighed. His footsteps faded, and it was just Sorri and Aela.  
Sorri moved forwards, cutting through the webs. Farkas got out just in time, as the two women faced off against Frostbite Spiders, and Sorri was almost glad she couldn’t see them.  
Once they were all dead, she and Aela continued through the ruin.  
“Perhaps it is not my place-” Aela started, but then faltered.  
Sorri adjusted her grip on her hammer as she walked, “What is it, Aela? Speak your mind.”  
“It’s just, you and Farkas…”  
Sorri paused, “Is it not allowed?” she questioned.  
“No, no, hardly. It’s just-in this kind of work, there can be distractions. Distractions that can get in the way.” Aela cautioned.  
Sorri continued walking, listening out, “Like you and Skjor?”  
“I-”  
“Aela, I know the way you acted around each other. There’s no shame in that. But we’ll be careful.” Sorri told her.  
Aela came up beside her, and pulled the chain to allow them to pass through.  
More ghosts were in the area, and came at them.   
“On your left,” Aela warned, and Sorri swung.  
They finished them off quickly, but Sorri had taken a few hits. She was starting to get tired, and her muscles ached still.  
“We’re here,” Aela said.  
The door swung closed behind them, and Sorri put her weapon away.  
“I-” Aela paused, “I cannot follow to this. I cannot bring myself to destroy my pack mate. If you will allow me, I will remain here.”  
“I understand,” Sorri told her kindly, “Then wait here then.”  
She walked forwards, hearing the crackling of a fire.  
The cold feeling of a ghost came again, but she felt no threat.  
“Kodlak, is that you?” she asked.  
The deep, rumbling voice of the Harbinger filled the air, “Of course. My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here. Trying to evade Hircine.”  
She found that strange, as she only felt the presence of Kodlak, “But, I sense only you.”  
“You see only me because your heart knows only me as the Companions leader.” He told her, “I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors. And I see them all. The ones in Sovngarde. The ones trapped with me in Hircine's realm. And they all see you. You've brought honor to the name of the Companions. We won't soon forget it.”  
She felt a heat rise to her cheeks, and she smiled.  
“Vilkas said you could still be cured.” She told him eagerly.  
“Did he now? I can only hope. You still have the witches' heads?” he asked.  
“Yes,” she pulled off her pack, and opened it up to grab one of them.  
“Excellent. Throw one of them into the fire. It will release their magic, for me at least,” he instructed.  
She felt the warm glow of the fire, and tossed it in.  
The feeling of Kodlak faded, and another, more primal feeling immerged. She could hear a howl, and the feeling of the werewolf spirit.  
She readied her weapon, and charged the wolf.  
They fought in Ysgramor’s Tomb, battling, woman versus beast, until Sorri immerged victorious.  
The wolf spirit faded, and she felt Kodlak return.  
“It’s done now, the wolf spirit is gone,” she told him.  
“And so slain the beast inside of me. I thank you for this gift.” Kodlak said, “The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though. Perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps someday, you'll join us in that battle.”  
She smiled, “I hope so as well,”  
Sovngarde, the Nordic afterlife for the great heroes. Would that be her destiny? She hoped so now, after all that had happened. If that’s where the Companions were going, then she wanted to join them.  
“But for today, return to Jorrvaskr. Triumph in your victory. And lead the Companions to further glory.” He told her.  
She took that in, “Wait, do you mean…?”  
“We will meet again, someday, Harbinger.” He said, and she felt him fade away.  
She stood there, not really believing what had happened.   
The flicker of the flame was still beside her.   
If she threw in another witch’s head, she could cure herself of the wolf blood.   
She may have travelled well throughout the tomb, but if she wanted to continue fighting, she would need to do it as a werewolf. It was her only real replacement for her loss of sight-her other senses as a wolf were far better than they could ever be normally.  
But the aches and pains, the head throbbing, the desperate hunger. She could finally get a good rest.  
She pulled out another head, and dropped it into the fire.   
She felt the spirit burst from her, and land a bit away. Her weapon at the ready, she fought off her wolf, and killed it.   
When she did, Sorri felt a weight lift from her. All the pain washed away, and she finally felt as though she could breath, as though she was truly alive.  
She smiled, it was like easing into a soft bed after a long, hard day.   
She heard Aela’s approach.  
“Did I hear right?” the huntress asked, “Did Kodlak say that you were to lead the Companions?”  
Sorri could not judge Aela’s reaction, wishing to see her face.  
“Does this upset you?” she questioned bluntly.  
“I'll be honest, I wouldn't have expected it. But that may just be because I remember when you were just a whelp who was begging to join. The old man trusted you, so I'll trust you.” Aela said, “But I, I also saw you cured yourself of the beast blood.”  
“I did. It was too much a weight to bear.” Sorri admitted, “I thank you deeply for that gift, Aela. It served me well, but like Kodlak, I wanted to be clean. I want the chance to see Sovngarde myself, someday, if it comes to that. I hope you can understand.”  
“I do, and I want to say it’s an honor to be the first to address you as Harbinger.”  
Sorri smiled, “Are you coming back to Jorrvaskr now?”  
“Eventually. But this... this is the Tomb of Ysgramor. I think I'm just going to... commune for a bit. This place is worthy of some time. You go on ahead. I'll see you back there.”  
Sorri smiled again, and turned. Luckily, there was a way out close the Tomb, and found her way back to the entrance.   
It was time for the new Harbinger to go home.


	20. Chapter 20

Her return to Jorrvaskr was bittersweet. Sorri was glad that they could cure Kodlak, and that she could cure herself, but she still missed the old man.   
Sorri told the others all that had happened-that Kodlak’s spirit was free, and that she had been named as Harbinger by Kodlak himself.  
“Oh, so you’re the one in charge now?” came Torvar’s skeptical voice.  
“No,” Sorri told him and the others, “I’m not in charge of anyone. Every Companion rules themselves, don’t you remember?”  
She sighed, and pressed her hands together, “I don’t claim to be the new Kodlak, and I could never even hope to take his place. I never expected to be in this position, but whatever I can do, I will. To me, the Companions are family. A family that will always help each other. And my door will always be open, if anyone needs or wants help.”  
She shook her head, “I believe now, my battling days are done. But I will gladly guide the Companions in the right direction.”  
“And what direction would that be?” Njada asked.  
Sorri smiled, “To fortune and glory, friends, fortune and glory.”

 

A few days later, Sorri walked out of Jorrvaskr, and went to the porch. It was late out, and she was tired. Sleep had finally been good again. No more restless nights, no more pain. She was glad she had cured herself of the beastblood. It might have been nice to be that powerful, but ultimately, it was a curse. Like Kodlak had said.  
There seemed to be only two people still outside. Vilkas, sitting on the porch, and Farkas relaxing in the yard.   
She heard Vilkas rise, and come over to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder.  
“I must admit, I never thought to see someone like you as Harbinger, but I understand Kodlak’s choice. It’s an honor to recognize you as Harbinger, now. You’ve brought something to the Companions that we haven’t seen in an age-peace. You’ve found a way that our spirits can rest. For that, I am grateful.”  
Sorri smiled, “Thank you, Vilkas.”  
He patted her shoulder a few times, and then went inside.  
She made her way over to Farkas.  
She sat beside him, and he moved so she could fit comfortably.   
“I’m glad you were able to cure Kodlak,” Farkas told her.  
“Me too,”  
Farkas pause for a moment, “And I’m glad you are the Harbinger,”  
She smiled, and took his hand.   
The cool night breeze started up, and she could enjoy it. Gone were the thoughts of hunting prey on the wind, and the ache to run free among the plains of Whiterun as a wolf. She could enjoy the moment.  
“I was wondering if you could help me,” she started out.  
“What do you need?” he asked.  
She pulled back, and took out a small, leather-bound book, “I-I found this in Kodlak’s dresser, when I went to retrieve the last piece of Wuuthrad for Eorlund. I think it’s his journal.”  
Farkas took it, and flipped through the pages. There was a silence for a moment, before he hurriedly said, “Yes, it is.”  
“I would never be one to want to invade his privacy, but…I thought it might bring me some insight to how he led the Companions. So, could you read it for me?” she asked.  
She could he the pages being flipped, “Of course,” he said.  
As he read, she curled up beside him, his arm holding her close. She breathed deeply, listening the words.  
‘In my dream, I see the line of Harbingers start with Ysgramor. Each of them ascends to Sovngarde, until we come to Terrfyg, who first turned us to the ways of the beast. He tries to enter Sovngarde, but before he can even approach Tsun, he is set upon by a great wolf, who pulls him into the Hunting Grounds, where Hircine laughs with welcoming arms.  
Terrfyg seems regretful, but also eager to join Hircine after a lifetime of service as a beast.  
Then I see every next Harbinger turn away from Sovngarde and enter the Hunting Grounds of their own accord. Until it comes to me, and I see great Tsun on the misty horizon, beckoning me. It appears I have a choice. And then, at my side, a stranger I had not seen before. As I look into her eyes, we turn to see the same wolf who dragged away Terrfyg, and she and I draw weapons together.  
I realize this is only a dream, but a strong enough dream to inspire a man like me to take to writing, so it must be of some import.  
***  
I've spoken of my thoughts to the Circle, withholding the part about the stranger lest Skjor worry I will no longer seek his counsel, and I was not surprised to see them torn by it. Skjor and Aela are strong in the ways of the beast, and even seemed to suggest that the Hunting Grounds would be their choice of afterlife, if it were truly a choice.  
Vilkas seemed most troubled. The boy is as fierce as a sabre cat in battle, but his heart's fire burns too brightly at times. He felt deceived, and I don't blame him. Farkas didn't know what to think, but I believe he will come around with me and his brother eventually. He usually does.  
I don't know what to do about Skjor and Aela. I know they respect the Companions, and me, but they take to the blood more deeply than the rest of us.  
***  
Fortune smiles upon us. Yesterday, Vilkas was telling me how difficult it had been for him to give up his transformations. Until we can pursue a true cure, the twins and I have chosen not to give in to the beastblood. For me, it's provided a clearer head, but Vilkas seems to be suffering a bit for it. Farkas seems completely untroubled. That boy continues to amaze with his fortitude.  
While Vilkas was confiding, through the shadows of Jorrvaskr, I saw a newcomer approach, who wished to join our numbers. It was the stranger from my dream, the one who would stand with me against the beast. Vilkas began speaking obliquely, not wishing to air our problems in front of our guest, and I had to be doubly cautious to not reveal anything of our secrets to the newcomer while also not revealing the details of my dream to Vilkas. I don't know how the politicians deal with these sorts of machinations daily.  
In any case, I've sent Vilkas to test the newcomer. We'll see if she is truly the great warrior I dreamt of.  
***  
This newcomer, it seems, is made of decent stock. She calls herself Sorri LaRoriane, and has already impressed some of the Circle with her mettle. I still keep my own counsel on her place in my dream, for now. Let us see what kind of destiny she is carving before hitching to her.  
In the meanwhile, I look for ways of cleansing my blood. The writings and legends on the subject are sparse and contradictory. I don't wish to engage any wizardry on this matter, but I fear they may be the only ones who best know how to navigate these worlds of knowledge.  
It's apparent to me now that Terrfyg's choice to turn us was indeed a mistake. Magics and their ilk are not in keeping with the spirit of the Companions. We face our problems directly, without the needs of such trickery. I can only hope to guide us back to the true path of Ysgramor before the rot takes me.  
***  
Sorri continues to impress. I don't know yet where she will stand on the question of the blood, but the question has not been presented yet. She does know that we carry the beastblood, and appears curious about it. Soon enough, I can explain our troubles, and hopefully see what role she will play.  
***  
I'm amazed that Aela thinks she can keep a secret among this drunken rabble. Especially with the loss of Skjor (my heart aches), emotions are fraying, and the walls of discretion are the first to fall.  
Apparently she and Sorri are waging their own separate war against the Silver Hand, in retaliation for Skjor's death. Their hearts are noble, but the course of vengeance is running hot, and I fear the counterstroke that may come if they do not rein in their fury.  
Sorri shows valor, though, even in this more underhanded time. We have not had cause to speak much, and that is something I deeply regret. I have high hopes for her destiny, as I realized that her appearance in my dream may indeed mark Sorri as the Harbinger to succeed me.  
I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Sorri can carry the Companions legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Only Sorri stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts.  
I will not speak to her of any of this, though. It is too much to burden another with. My hope is that she and I can keep counsel over the coming years, that I can impart the wisdom of the Harbingers. All things in time. Firstly, I will seek her assistance in the matter of the witches of Glenmoril. It would appear that our path to the cure is not without some poetic justice for the tricksters who first cursed us.’  
When she heard Farkas close the book, she realized both of them were crying.   
“Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek.  
He held her close, and the two of them stayed together.


	21. Chapter 21

As time moved on, Sorri settled into her role as Harbinger of the Companions. While all of Skyrim seemed to mourn the passing of such a great man as Kodlak, she was not daunted by the task. The Companions remained as legendary warriors, and Sorri made sure that everyone lived with glory and honor.  
She did not want them to be a bunch of drunken rabble, or glorified mercenaries. The Companions legacy was something she wanted to be proud of. And it was.  
Sorri returned to Ysgramor’s tomb twice. She cured the twins of their beastblood as well. Vilkas and Farkas both seemed better for it.  
Only Aela remained as a wolf. Sorri did not want to press the issue, and only spoke with her once about it.  
“You hope to join him, don’t you?” she had asked Aela.  
“What do you mean?” the huntress had asked.  
Sorri had smiled, “Skjor. You want your afterlife to be in the Hunting Grounds. With him.”  
Aela had sighed, “Yes, Harbinger. Would you advise against that?”  
“Not at all. Whatever makes you happy. But-if you ever change your mind, there is still one last witch’s head.”  
But Aela still remained as a werewolf, content to hunt on her own.   
Sorri continued learning about the Companions, and her predecessors. Farkas helped her with the reading, and Vilkas with the lesser known histories.   
She had kept her promise, and her door was always open.  
The Harbinger’s room and study she kept the same. She had displayed her Skyforge steel war hammer, since she no longer needed such weapons. Fighting without her sight was not something she was inclined to do.   
Eorlund had revealed to her that the Skyforge was working better than ever, and he had been able to create new armors and weapons for the Companions. He said that the flames of the heroes could rebirth the forge. And Kodlak’s great fire had rekindled it.  
Sorri now wore the Wolf Armor of the Companions, proudly. And she found time to speak and connect with all of her Shield-Siblings.  
Farkas and her remained together, and grew to love each other whole-heartedly. She never would have imagined when she had first come to Skyrim to travel and see the world that all of that would happen. That she would settle down as a warrior and the Harbinger of the Companions of legend, and find the man she loved.  
But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

One day, months after she had become Harbinger, Sorri was sitting in her study. She could hear footsteps approach.   
“Harbinger?” Ria’s voice asked, and Sorri beckoned her in.  
A stranger was among them, she could tell.  
“This boy is looking to join up.” Ria told her.  
“Um, hello, ma’am.” The boy said.  
His accent…Redguard. He was youthful, for certain. Sorri turned and smiled in his direction.  
“You don’t need to call me ‘ma’am’ son, just Sorri will do. Now, you want to be a Companion?” she asked.  
“Yes, more than anything.”   
She laughed, “Quite the claim there. Well, what do we call you?”  
“Jalbyn,” he said.  
“Now, Jalbyn, are you good at fighting?”  
Jalbyn paused, “I will be,”  
“If you work for it, and hold yourself with honor, then we would gladly accept you to the ranks of the Companions. There is always room in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts.” Sorri told him.  
“Ria-take him out to the yard. See if you can get Vilkas to take a look at his arm.”  
“Yes, Sorri.” Ria said, “C’mon.”  
Her and the new recruit went off, and Sorri turned back to the desk.   
She smiled-Jorrvaskr would always be her home, and the Companions always would be her family.  
And she couldn’t ask for anything more.

**Author's Note:**

> This series takes place over the course of 4E 201-202 in Skyrim, following the main quest lines of the game, with different, non-Dovahkiin characters at the helm, all in the same universe. This story starts a few months after the start of the main quest line, and all other quests have been completed except the Civil War.  
> You can read about the Thieves Guild Quest line in my other story http://archiveofourown.org/works/7892752 Larceny.  
> Enjoy!


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